


Heavy and Heady

by Nibbitthecat



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse, Alpha Dutch, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arthur Morgan Has Low Self-Esteem, Arthur Whump, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Brotherly Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Chases, Dealing With Trauma, Escape, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Humiliation, Hypothermia, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Manipulation, Omega Arthur, Omega Arthur Morgan, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranoia, Period-Typical Racism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Dynamics, Racism, Rape, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2020-09-26 10:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 113,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20388307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nibbitthecat/pseuds/Nibbitthecat
Summary: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics.When Arthur gets away from the gang as he feels the beginning of his heat nearing, he gets into a lot more trouble than he was running away from.





	1. Chapter 1

He had fled from camp the moment when he felt the first small hints of his heat nearing. The light tingling sensation that started to crawl up his skin, the slight ache in his lower belly and the subtle sweetening of his scent.

Sitting uncomfortably in the saddle, galloping to nowhere in particular, he let Avalon do his thing. As long as the mahogany dappled horse didn't lead them to anywhere crowded, it was fine.  
Right now he was following the trail alongside the Dakota river, going South. He'd rather stay somewhere deserted and wait it out. It was a better option than staying in their camp at horseshoe overlook. Too many alphas and too many testosterone, he just knew he wouldn't be all too picky when his hormones took control of him. It was shameful, embarrassing and to him, unacceptable.

He had struggled with being an omega for his whole life now, trying to accept the fact he's one, a fact that ain't never gonna change. Omega's were rare and folks automatically wanted to fuss over them, take care of them or control them. So he did his best hiding the fact he‘s one, by his daily scrubbings, rubbing herbs over his scent glands to try and hide the sweet and alluring aroma that exuded from him. By getting muscled, trying to get strong and independent, which seemed to be a unique thing he noticed after having met up with the couple of other omegas he had met in his life. They were all graceful and lithe, beautiful and alluring compared to him. But they were weak and helpless, couldn't do a thing if some alpha decided to take control of them. 

But he reckoned he wasn't that much different of them after all. No muscles or independence could help him when he was around Dutch. Arthur was like any other omega around the alpha. He wasn't in control, like an obedient dog he was around the other man.

He thought back to the time he had presented and had gotten into his first heat, he had just turned seventeen. It was awkward, uncomfortable and unpleasant and Dutch had ‘helped' him out to get through it. It was one of the things he regretted most in his life. Dutch had been like a father to him, he and Hosea had saved his life giving him a home. Having sex with someone you see as a father, it still made him absolutely uneasy. Especially since Dutch was still interested in trying to mate him, wanted to put his mark on him. He had tried again the last time he went into heat, taking him, biting down hard in the juncture of his neck while knotting him. And yet again Arthur hadn't accepted the mark, hadn’t accepted the bonding between them. 

Dutch had been vicious and furious afterwards. 

Thankfully he hadn't gotten pregnant those few times, but he wasn't willing to take another chance this time. His life, the gang's life, was a big enough mess as it was right now. With the Pinkertons hunting them down. In no way did he want to raise a pup or multiple pups in this life.

He steered Avalon through the river, water splashing upwards as he scanned his surroundings. No one in sight. Didn't mean a thing though. He shouldn't be staying out in the clear, he reckoned it was better to move to somewhere with more places to hide himself and his scent, a dense forest perhaps, a deserted cabin or a cave. Looking up at the sky, he noted it was getting darker, he shouldn't linger, he should find a safe spot soon.

The tingling of his skin worsened by the minute as sweat started to bead his skin. He knew it could take a while for the heat to actually take over, but these first stages were making him feel absolutely uncomfortable and almost panicky. Deciding to take the high road, instead of following the trail along the Dakota, he steered Avalon to the right and up the hill, dark trees surrounding him within a few seconds. An uncanny feeling crawled up his spine the moment he entered the woods, like he was being watched. Could be paranoia, could be nothing, but he knew when to be cautious and when to take his instincts seriously. He hovered his hand above the gun at his waist, his eyes scanning, going from right to left, but it was hard to see anything except for the darkening trees flashing by him. His nostrils flared, trying to pick up any scents, but smelled none out of the ordinary.

He rode for a while, the uneasiness never subsiding. When he suddenly heard a deep sinister cackle behind him, he knew his paranoia hadn't been nothing after all. He might just be in deep trouble. He tried not to panic and spurred Avalon on, urging the horse to go faster and faster as he took his gun out. Taking a quick glance over his shoulder, he couldn't see anyone. Was it just his paranoia or was it the beginning of his heat playing tricks on his mind? He brushed the sweat off his brows and leaned down over Avalon's shoulders, urging the horse to go even faster. 

Whatever it was, he didn't want to find out.

He perked his ears after a while, thought he heard hooves coming from the dense forest at his right. But he wasn't too sure anymore.

Right now, he knew he was vulnerable, the gun shaking in his unsteady hands. It felt like he was running a high fever, the warmth between his legs sending him over the edge. But in no way was he planning on stopping now, setting up a camp would certainly have to come later. 

When he heard another low cackle, his heart started racing even faster. Someone ‘was' there and the feller was following him, he was sure. It wasn't his mind playing tricks on him.  
He was absolutely sure.

“Waaaait up… pretty boyy…” A voice eerily sang somewhere behind him, followed by laughter.

His heart stopped.

He heard even more hooves thundering behind him now. Multiple hooves. He dared to take another quick glance over his shoulder, looking behind him. He counted at least four men on horses chasing after him, possibly even more. How did he not smell them before? He knew he was feeling hazy, his mind fogged by the heat slowly taking over his body. But was it this bad? He had failed to notice at least four men chasing after him.

He still couldn't smell them though, the wind that whipped passed him wasn't helping at all. More important, he didn't know if they could smell him. He just hoped the herbs he had rubbed on his glands an hour ago, were still able to cover his scent. If these fellers were alphas, he was going to be in serious deep trouble. 

He spurred Avalon on to go even faster, possibly pushing the horse above its limits, but the loyal animal barely complained, seeming to understand the somewhat dire situation he was in.  
Right now running was the best and only option. If he was in his normal functioning shape, he wouldn't hesitate for a second to fight them off.

He looked down at his shaking hands. 

But he wasn't, he could barely hold his goddamn gun.

He could hear a low whooshing sound, but before his mind could comprehend what it was, something snapped tight around his neck and harshly pulled him off the back of his horse and onto the dirt beneath him, his gun flown out of his hands a couple of feet away. The wind knocked out of his lungs, he thought he had heard a snap in his ribs. Gasping for air, he rolled onto his side, seeing stars as he growled in pain.

The world was spinning as he rolled over onto his back and looked up at the darkening sky, his hands coming up to clutch at the tightness around his neck, feeling the rough exterior of a rope burning his skin, tightening around his windpipe. His breathing slightly labored, he didn't know if it was caused by the fall, the ache in his ribs, the rope around his neck or the beginning of his heat. 

He thought he heard laughter and footsteps coming closer to him, but could hardly comprehend it at the moment as his body was still recovering from the fall.

“Hey there, sugar...” 

He heard a mocking voice. Arthur tried to blink the gray haze away from his vision and saw a broad man crouching down and leaning over him, he was holding a rope, smirking down at him. Arthur's nose flared, catching the strong musky smell of an alpha. The alpha tugged at Arthur's gun belt, taking it off and throwing it to the nearest alpha, who caught it easily.

“He's rrreal pretty…” Another feller leered down at him as well. Arthur looked up, still trying to decipher what was really happening around him. This feller was less muscled, but telling by his scent, an alpha as well. 

Shit.

The feller holding the rope sniffed the air around them and snatched Arthur's wrist, bringing it up to his nose, taking in his scent. A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes as he made eye contact with him. 

He growled, his eyes darkening. “I thought my mind was playin’ tricks on me...” He half mumbled to himself, keeping his eyes on Arthur's. “But boys, we caught ourselves a real omega!” His low murmur turned into a loud exclaim, a cocky smirk curling up his lips. Loud howls and yells of excitement soon followed.

Knowing he was in deep deep trouble, Arthur threw a quick fist up and punched the broad feller in the face. The man fell on top of him, clutching his nose, but kept his stare on him, looking slightly unfazed. The feller growled and used the back of his hand to slap Arthur across the face, taking his wrists in his rough filthy hands, his nose dripping blood, Arthur grimaced when he could feel it splatter on his cheek.

His head spinning, he cursed at his own weakness, he could feel his hands tremble at the effort as he tried to pull them out of the harsh grip. He was able to smell them all now. Alphas, at least five of them, their musky heavy scents over-stimulating his senses. The heat was taking control of his body and he was losing strength fast. Normally a blow to the head from his fists would knock almost any man out. Looking up, the man was still smirking, leaning closer, examining him. He looked to be fine, no way in danger of losing consciousness by the blow to his head. He seemed absolutely goddamn fine, except for the trickle of blood that was still slowly running down his nose.

“He’s a feisty one!” The broad feller smeared the blood from his nose and bearded chin, using his blood smeared hand to pull at Arthur's shirt, ripping and pushing his collar to the side to reveal tantalizing skin, his lip quirking up into an even wider smirk as his eyes kept wandering up and down his neck. “…And he ain't marked…”

Arthur turned away from the penetrating gaze, trying to hide his neck, struggling harder, desperately trying to get a knee in between the man's legs.

“Unmarked? The poor thing… we'll give ya some love, sugar.” He heard another voice mock him, coming from the right. 

Growling and trashing, Arthur snarled at them. 

“Get the Hell off, you goddamn bastards!” His voice raspy, trying to hide the hint of panic that was slowly taking over him.

The man above him laughed loudly. “We can't just let you go, sweetheart. We need a good lay and some easy money. And that's where you come in..”

The broad feller on top of him chuckled and licked his lips as he took the end of the rope that was still attached to Arthur's neck and tied it around the omega's wrists, pulling tightly. He gave him a smug triumphant smirk as he stood up, looking down at him. He turned back to his companions. 

“Get his horse, search if there's anythin’ valuable in those saddlebags, I'll take a look through his pockets..” He ordered and smirked back down at him, leaning down, Arthur could feel violating fingers wandering over his heated body, going lower and halting at his hips, lingering too long for his liking, before slipping inside his pockets. Finding nothing, the man snatched Arthur's satchel off of his shoulder, thick fingers slipping inside of the leather and taking out a neat folded bundle of paper. 

The money he had been saving for camp improvements.. Close up to a thousand dollars…

The man above him laughed loudly in triumph, throwing his hand, holding the cash, up in the air. “This is gettin’ better by the second, boys! He's a goddamn goldmine!”

“The horse is packed with guns, ‘s worth a fortune as well!” Another man howled, leading a skittish looking Avalon over to them.

The broad feller above him hollered, looking like the luckiest man alive,  
while Arthur felt like the complete opposite. 

“Weeyooh! Let's get back to camp!” With that said, the man pulled him up on his feet and slung him on top of his broad shoulder, as if he weighed nothing more than a bile of hay. Arthur gritted his teeth, a bright flash of pain running through his body as his aching ribs were pressed together on the man's shoulder. He had definitely broken a rib or two, maybe more. 

“No need to linger. We can have our fun later...” Broad feller hoisted a struggling Arthur on the back of his raven black shire, making sure to tie the omega's ankles up well before mounting his large horse. The others doing so as well.

Clicking his tongue, broad feller spurred his horse into a swift gallop, steering it back into the dense forest, the rest of the gang following close behind.

One of the other alphas rode up to them, glancing between broad feller and Arthur. 

“We should sell him to some rich alpha after we've had our fun with ‘im.” He gave Arthur a coy smile when they briefly locked eyes. “An unmarked omega, he's worth a fortune.. We just gotta find the right alpha.” 

“We might.” Arthur heard broad feller reply calmly. “But only after he's startin’ to bore us.” He felt a large hand grab his ass and squeeze. 

Arthur growled, if he ever got out of these goddamn ropes. 

“I'll kill all of you goddamn bastards..” He growled dangerously, his voice low and his words spat like venom, gaining the alphas’ attention.

“Oh? He's still got a voice.” Broad feller turned to him, looking amused. “Better spare yer voice, sweetheart. Cause you’ll be screamin’ for the rest of the night..” He cooed mockingly. 

Arthur growled in response, but didn't reply, didn't want to give them the satisfaction. It was better to keep his mouth shut and keep his eyes on his surroundings. If he ever planned on escaping, he should know where he's going. But it proved to be difficult, slung over the horse's back as he was, he wasn't able to see much more than the ground beneath him and the trees they passed by. They didn't follow a path nor a trail, there was no landmark he could follow on his way home if he ever succeeded to escape. The only thing he was sure of was that they were still in the forest that surrounded mount Shann, but that was a vast amount of territory to be crossed. 

The alpha riding next to him, slowed his horse down a bit so he could ride next to Arthur, his eyes wandering all over his face and body. His nose flaring as he was probably trying to take his scent in.

The alpha turned his head to the side, his eyes narrowing, examining him further. “He's different than other omegas..” He said slowly, a dark glint in his eyes. “Looks stronger, can't smell ‘im that well either…” His hand wandered lower, brushing over the bulge in his pants. “Would like to fuck ‘im till he turns into a weepin’ mess..” He bared his yellowing teeth, licking them as his dry cracked lips curled up into a smirk.

Broad feller laughed. “Woulda like to see ya try! Bet you can't handle this one, better leave ‘im to someone more capable..”

The other alpha snarled in response, this time baring his teeth in a somewhat feral way. He growled at broad feller, who responded in the same way. Seemed like they were already starting to get competitive. Like Arthur was a prize to be won. 

And in a way he reckoned he was.

Their snarling soon turned into laughter. Crazy laughter. The other alphas around them joining in as well. Sounded like wolves howling after they just found a nice prey to eat. Or maybe they were warding off rivaling packs from their territory, from their possessions. Maybe both. Whatever it was, it sent shivers down Arthur's spine. Made him struggle in his bonds more fervently.  
Arthur wondered who these men were. He had heard about some local stories, a group of alphas in the area of Strawberry, looting, plundering, killing, raping… Wondered if these fellers were the same as the ones from the stories, he surely didn't hope so.

He felt the horse underneath him slow down into a gentle trot until it was pulled to a halt. Arthur tried to look up, as much as the restraint around his neck allowed him to. The sun had set a while ago and it was already starting to get quite dark in the dense forest that surrounded them. He was able to make out the outlines of a small camp, existing of three white tents with the remains of a campfire in front of them, there was a fallen down tree right next to their camp which they seemed to use to sit on around the campfire. There wasn't much else, a simple camp, easy to pack up if they needed to make a swift escape.

While the alphas slipped off their horses, one of them went over to the campfire, probably to start a fire, the others started to surround him again. He was left on the horse, felt probing hands going up his legs, over his cheeks and back. One of them moved over to his neck, nuzzling the spot where his oversensitive gland was, inhaling his strong and sweetening scent that he knew was getting stronger by the second.. He tried to hide the keening noise that slipped from his throat, but found it hard to.

“I think he's nearin’ his heat…” The alpha licked his lips in excitement, pushing his nose deeper into the juncture of Arthur's neck. Arthur cursed underneath his breath and shivered at the sensation, feeling betrayed by his own body when his skin prickled in delight.

“What? He is?” Broad feller strode over to them, pushing the other alpha aside who bared his teeth at him in annoyance. He ran his tongue over the scent gland on Arthur's neck, the taste rolling over his tongue, a small heady hint spiking his senses. “He is… He's tryin’ to hide it though, with herbs or somethin’..” He murmured as his eyes darkened slightly. He grabbed Arthur and slung him yet again over his shoulder, bringing him over to the crackling campfire, dropping him on the damp ground next to it. Arthur groaned in pain, feeling his ribs protesting in the impact.

Broad feller stood before him, smirking down. The other alphas circled around them, licking their lips, looking at Arthur like a prey to be eaten.

“There's a thing we always like t' do, omega.” Broad feller said and kneeled in front of him, grabbing a handful of Arthur's hair in his fist, raising his head to stare into the Arthur's blue greenish eyes. 

“We're gonna play a game.” He said. “And you're the grand prize t’ be won.”

Arthur groaned at the rough tugging on his head, furrowing his brows in question as he registered what had just been said, a game? But in no way was he planning on asking. He felt rough fingers seize his chin and wrenched his head up to meet the other's. 

“You're gonna run, pretty boy.. You're gonna run as fast as you can.” Broad feller said, his voice low and dangerous, his face close enough that Arthur could smell the murky scent that came from his rotting teeth. “And we're gonna hunt you down, whoever catches you first, gets you first…” He chuckled lowly. “I reckon it's gonna be me..”

Broad feller let go of his head in one quick movement, grabbing the knife from his holster and cutting the rope loose around Arthur's ankles, keeping his wrists bound. Slightly dazed, Arthur stared around him, the panic in his head making it hard to understand the situation he was in. He froze.

“You gotta run, sweetheart!”

Something finally clicked in Arthur's head, his heart started racing as the adrenaline started rushing through his system. His heat suddenly felt repressed by the adrenaline, pushed back so he could make space for survival. In one swift movement he sprang up to his hands and feet, throwing one long leg to the side to tackle one of the alphas that was standing next to him. One harsh thud and a curse later and the man fell on the ground, leaving an opening for Arthur to run through. 

This was his chance.

He dashed forward with newfound energy, running straight passed two other alphas, who looked slightly startled and dumbfounded.

“He’s a quick one! Get ‘im, boys!” He heard one of them yell in excitement behind him, setting the men into action. "Keep him pretty!"

Arthur ran, he ran as fast as he possibly could, watching where his feet went. Stumbling and falling just wasn't an option. He could hear them close behind him, he could smell them close behind him, chasing him as he ran passed trees in no way particular, as long as it was away from them. His breathing was hard and labored, but short and panicky. He could hear them laughing and howling, sending shivers down his spine as he ran through the darkness of the forest, felt the skin on his bare arms and face ripping as he ran through bushes of wild raspberries. He kept on running through the thorns when he was suddenly met with a steep decent, he fell, rolling down the muddy ground, rocks cutting through his skin before he finally came to a halt at a small creek that flowed in sweeping meanders through the dark forest. 

He crawled up to his feet, grunting in pain at the numerous cuts and welts that had formed on his skin in a matter of seconds, felt his ankle protesting when he put his weight on it. He grunted in pain and leaned down to grab one of the sharp big rocks that had fallen with him, could come in handy if he needed to defend himself. There was no time to dwell on his discomforts, hearing and smelling multiple alphas getting closer to him. He limped downstream along the creek, it was his only hope to get himself away from the men and hopefully to a road, or even to somewhere civilized. Though he knew he would never get that far. 

He was in an hopeless and dire situation, and he knew it. 

The alphas were close on his tail, were familiar in these surroundings, they would never let him get out of here. Arthur heard one of them howling close by, he clenched the sharp rock tighter in his fist, suddenly realizing, running would be pointless and came to an abrupt halt. Glancing around his dark surroundings he saw a big tree to his right and swiftly limped over to hide behind it. 

He wasn't going to run, he would have to fight. It was the only option to get himself out of here in one piece. Maybe he could knock one of the alphas out, get one of his weapons to take the rest out.

His nostrils flared as he tried to take in big breaths of air through his nose, trying to calm his nerves down, calm his racing heartbeat and his aching lungs. He clenched his bound hands around the sharp rock as he took a look around the tree he was hiding behind. 

One of them was nearing the tree, walking in a fast pace, but came to a sudden halt when his nose probably picked up Arthur's scent close by.

“..I can smell youuu...”

Arthur shivered and cursed underneath his breath, pressing his back flat against the tree and gripping the rock even tighter in his hands as he heard the alpha slowly stepping forward, coming closer and closer. He perked his ears and when he was sure the alpha was no more than a few feet away from him, he jumped out of his hiding spot. The alpha looked startled but had no time to do anything else as Arthur jumped him and smashed the sharp piece of rock into the man's head. They both fell to the ground, with Arthur straddling the other man’s body as he smashed the rock another time in the man's head. Blood spattered around him, but he paid no mind to it. 

He checked the man, making sure he was knocked out cold, he sure seemed like it. Arthur wasn't even sure if the man was still alive. 

He quickly started searching the man's body, finding a sharp hunting knife at his hip and some rope in his limp and bloody hands, Arthur swiftly snatched the items and went through the man's pockets, but found nothing else of use. He used the knife to cut the ropes around his wrists and neck and stood up, feeling much better with a knife in his hands. A weapon to defend himself with.

But there was no time to waste.

He started limping along the creek again, thought about whistling for Avalon, but quickly decided against it. The sound would only succeed to lure the rest of the alphas to his location. He could still hear them close by, he could take them out one by one, but he wasn't so sure of himself if he had to take them on all at the same time. Maybe it would be better to sneak back to the camp and fetch his horse and try and make a swift escape. The alphas probably wouldn't expect it. Though they would expect him to follow the creek's trail…

Making up his mind, Arthur turned away from the creek, just hoping luck would be on his side and let him be able to sneak passed the alphas and get back to Avalon. 

“Shit! The goddamn lil' bastard!”

His heart jumped when he heard the loud cursing behind him. For a second he thought they had discovered him, but when he glanced around himself in panic, he saw no alpha close by. They had probably discovered the body of the alpha he had just knocked out or maybe even killed. Deciding to make use of the distraction, he quickly made his way back to the camp. From afar he could see the light from the campfire, it lured him in, a bright beacon in the darkness. 

He was close now, so goddamn close, could make out Avalon tied to a tree next to the other horses at the back of the small camp. He quickly limped along the camp, staying in the shadows and out of the light. He saw Avalon perking its ears as a twig snapped underneath his feet. They made eye contact, the horse softly whinnying in greeting as Arthur stepped up to him. He grabbed the saddle horn in his hand and when he was about to set his foot in the stirrup, he suddenly heard a loud rustling behind him.

“Oh no you don't!”

Before Arthur could even register what was happening he felt himself knocked to the ground by something heavy. He gasped in pain as his aching ribs were crushed underneath the heavy weight. When he looked up, he was just in time to see the butt of a gun come crashing down at his temple, knocking him out cold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning

“Wake up, pretty boy..”

Arthur grunted, waking up to a throbbing pain in his head and ribs, his entire body seemed to be sore. He tried moving his limbs, but found out he wasn't able to. 

Something was wrong. 

Only then did he start to remember what had happened and couldn't help the rising panic. His eyes shot open and was met by blinding light of the crackling campfire before him. He struggled against the ropes around his wrists and ankles, growled and hissed like a wounded and caged animal would.

“You messed his face up..” 

One of the alphas commented dryly as he walked over to Arthur, crouching down, taking a swig of the bottle of rum in his hand as he studied him. “Look at him, his pretty face ‘s all swollen and bruised.” He stroked Arthur's hair almost in a gentle manner. Arthur sharply turned away from the touch, growling at the alpha in disdain.

“Shut up.” Arthur heard a man growl in response and glanced to his right, seeing broad feller taking a long drag of his cigarette. 

“He almost got away, if I hadn't hit the pretty thing in the head, we wouldn't have somethin’ to fuck tonight..”

“Ah, you might be right..” the alpha next to Arthur said, standing up and taking another swig of his bottle of rum as he sat down on the fallen down tree next to the campfire.

“Goddamn bastards…” Arthur growled, his voice raspy and his breath hitched as he tried lifting himself up on his hands and knees.

“Ah look, he still got some fight left in ‘im." Broad feller laughed, throwing his cigarette on the ground and crushing it beneath his heal. He stood up and walked over to Arthur and kicked him in the ribs, sending him back to the ground.

Arthur cried out in pain, his broken and aching ribs protesting in the sudden impact.

“Poor thing, you tried so hard..” The alpha cooed mockingly, looking down at him. “you were even able to kill one of us..” There was a dangerous glint in his dark eyes. “I should compliment you on that though, it's a first… but I'm none too pleased with ‘t.”

“Goddamn you…” Arthur growled in between gasps, glaring up at the other man.

“But none of that matters now.” Broad feller continued, lifting a struggling Arthur up by his collar. “What matters is that I caught you, so that means I get you first…” He pushed his face into the juncture of Arthur's neck, his mouth lapping at the sensitive scent gland, taking in the sweetness and the intoxicating smell of an omega nearing his heat.

“You smell so gooood…”

Arthur shuddered and shivered, trying to struggle against the alpha's unwanted touches, his instinct telling him to give in and let the alpha do as he pleases, but his mind was screaming no, fight the man, fight the wrongdoing that would be handed out to his body. He didn't want this. He regretted ever setting foot out of camp, getting away from Dutch. 

Dutch… 

Would Dutch wonder where he was? Would he be worried? Maybe the man would come looking for him. Felt like a welcoming thought at the moment.

He was distracted out of his thoughts when broad feller suddenly tore the buttons of his shirt, ripping it open and threw him on his back down on the ground. He took out a hunting knife and Arthur's heart started hammering in his chest as the alpha stepped closer to him.

“Grab his legs.” Broad feller ordered.

Arthur panicked when two of the men grabbed him by the ankles. Hissing in pain when his painful ankle was held in a tight grip. His struggles increased more fervently, used his bound hands to claw at one of them. Broad feller leaned down, using the knife to cut Arthur's suspenders and tugged his pants down his hips, leaving his lower body naked in the cool night air. Pulling the pants down to his ankles, he momentarily stopped to cut the rope around Arthur's ankles so he could pull the pants down and his boots off his legs. There was barely time to react before the two alphas holding his ankles pulled his legs apart, leaving him vulnerable, ashamed and spread open for the awaiting alpha. Broad feller licked his lips, went on his knees and crawled in between Arthur's long legs.

“Look at this, boys…” Broad feller smirked as he fumbled with the buttons of his pants, pulling his hard member out. “Ain't he the most prettiest thing you've ever seen in yer life?”

The other alphas laughed and howled in response, their lust filled eyes sucking in the sight of the vulnerable omega in front of them. Arthur just wanted to die, feeling so goddamn ashamed, felt the hatred and disgust directed to the men surrounding him. But he wasn’t planning on giving up, he suddenly and swiftly pulled his leg back, his ankle momentarily slipping out of the alpha's grip on him. He kicked broad feller in the chest, hard. The alpha falling backwards, letting out a curse and a yelp of pain.

Before Arthur could hand out another kick, his ankle was grabbed yet again. Fingers clenching tightly around his ankle till his skin started to bruise. Broad feller crawled back up to his knees, fury in his eyes as he yet again crawled on top of Arthur. He grabbed Arthur's bound wrists in one hand and used his other hand to punch him hard in the stomach.

Arthur wanted to double over in pain, but couldn't by the men holding his limbs. He glared and hissed at the man above him.

“And here I was thinkin' I could try and be gentle with you, prep you up a bit…” Broad feller snarled, his hand running up and down his hard member. “Not gonna happen now.”

And in a way Arthur was thankful for that. If this really was going to happen, he'd rather have pain, in no way did he want to enjoy any of this. And the thought of the man prepping him in front of all the other men, it was humiliating and degrading. He didn't want to be treated like some goddamn whore.

Broad feller let go of his bound wrists and used his big rough hands to push Arthur's thighs further apart. Grabbing his thick member in his hands, he guided himself to the omega's opening.  
When Arthur felt the tip of the man press inside him, he panicked yet again, the burning sensation shooting waves of pain up his back. He fervently pulled at the holds on his ankles, trying to claw at broad feller's chest in sheer desperation. Broad feller ignored him and in one harsh push, fully pressed himself deeply inside him.

Arthur cried out in pain, clawing and scratching at the man's chest as he tried to get his body away from the aching intrusion, completely blinded by the sheer pain that ran through his body.  
The alphas around them howled and cheered broad feller on. Arthur hid his face behind his bound arms, biting down in the flesh of his arm to try and distract himself from the searing pain in his lower body and all the humiliation he was put through. 

“How's he feel?” Arthur slowly glanced up from behind his arm to see one of the alphas standing behind him.

“So goddamn tight, like I'm fuckin' a goddamn virgin…” Broad feller said between grunts as he leaned over Arthur to push his arms away from his face. “Grab his goddamn arms, wanna see his face when I'm fuckin' him.”

Arthur tried to weakly protest when his arms were pulled away from his face, held tightly above his head. It was all getting too much for him, the intense pain in his lower body as broad feller slowly started to move inside him, the humiliation and disgust, the desperation, his instincts telling him to give in as his nearing heat wore his body down, and the numerous cuts, bruises, broken bones that covered his body, it was all getting too much. He wanted to cry, scream, beg for them to stop, but he didn't do any of that. Just kept silent through the rough treatment. In all honesty, he didn't know what to do, just wanted this to be over so badly. But by the looks of the other men surrounding him, this was far from over.

He felt broad feller pick up the pace, his insides tearing, he was quite sure he was bleeding, feeling a sticky slickness easing the way. The alpha pumped into him with a feverish and brutish pace, felt the man's dark eyes staring down at his face.

“You feel.. so good… omega.” Broad feller panted in between thrusts. Sweat dripping off his forehead, splattering down on Arthur's face. Arthur just clenched his eyes shut, wishing to be somewhere else, anywhere else would be better than being here. It felt like ages when he felt broad feller halting and shuddering, pressing himself deeply inside him as he came.

There wasn't much time to recover as broad feller slipped out of him, one of the other alphas taking his spot between his legs immediately after him.

It didn't stop, the raping went on for numerous hours, sometimes the alphas taking short breaks to drink, sing and laugh, before one of them decided to take another turn on him again. It was pure torment.

Completely drained, Arthur hung over the fallen down tree at the campfire, his wrists still bound and his naked ass up in the air. One of the men stepped up behind him yet again, grabbed his hips and pushed himself in for another round. The group of alphas drunkenly cheering him on.

After a while things seemed to have calmed down, every inch of Arthur's body absolutely hurt like Hell. He felt broken, used and disgusted with himself. It was hard to comprehend what had really happened to him and what was still happening to him.

Looking up, tired eyes scanning his surroundings. There were six of them in total, four of them had fallen asleep, sprawled out around the small camp, while the other two were still taking swigs of what seemed like their last bottle of rum. They were chatting, lazily leaning against each other’s backs, once in a while looking over at him and laughing.

Arthur quickly looked away, pretending to be asleep. He heard one of them walking over to him, his heart started pounding in his chest and his muscles tensed as he waited what the alpha was planning on doing to him. He wasn't so sure his body and mind could take another round of the torment.

“We shoul.. tie ‘im up.. better..” The man slurred next to him, using the empty bottle of rum to prod Arthur's shoulder.

The other laughed. “Look at ‘im… he ain't goin' nowhere…”

“Hmmm.. ye might be right..” The drunken alpha dropped the bottle on the ground next to Arthur. “I reckon.. we've broken ‘im..” He let out a drunken chuckle.

It was tempting for Arthur to take the empty bottle next to him and smash the alphas’ heads in, real tempting. Didn't mean it would be clever. 

“I’ll tie ‘im up… jus' t'make sure…”

Arthur’s heart sank, his chances of escaping narrowing down. He shivered when he felt rough hands around his legs yet again, held back the whimper that wanted to slip out of his throat when the rope was tied around his ankles. An arm slipped around his waist and he was put down on the ground next to the fire, his back leaning against the fallen down tree. He let his head loll forwards against his chest, didn't want the men to think he was still awake. He felt how the alpha tied him to the tree and knew his chances of escaping were getting slimmer and slimmer.

The alpha stepped away from him, while the other one had already settled down in one of the tents. Arthur dared to carefully glance up, noticing how the last alpha had settled himself down at the other side of the campfire, fast asleep within seconds. He lifted his chin, carefully studied the group of men sprawled around the camp. They all seemed fast asleep, snoring and grunting. Glancing at his side, he saw the empty bottle still lying next to his bare legs. 

He lifted his bound weak hands, trying to lean forward to grab the bottle, but the rope around his torso was keeping him back. He grunted in disappointment, feeling exhausted and weary, his body wanted him to go sleep, give in and rest. He knew his body needed it after the abuse he had went through. But he knew the moment he would awake, the torment would start all over again.

Resting wasn't an option, he had to get out of here.

Trying a different tactic, he used his bare feet, clenching his teeth in pain, feeling his aching lower body scream in protest as he lifted his legs, pushing the bottle closer to himself with his feet. It was working, thank God it was working. He leaned forward again and this time he was able to grab the bottle with his shaking hands. Clutching the bottle close to his chest, he knew he somehow had to break it. He needed something sharp to cut the ropes, but it would be risky breaking the glass. Any sound could wake up one of the sleeping men and breaking glass almost always came with noise.

He needed to break it though, or he wouldn't get out. But he had a plan, a plan without too much noise, a plan he didn't particularly like.

He wrapped the cuff of his shirt around his left hand and grabbed the neck of the bottle, clenching his fingers around it as tightly as he possibly could. He knew if the glass snapped, he could severely damage the tendons in his hand, but it was a risk he was willing to take, he needed to get out of here and with a sharp shard of glass, he would be able to cut the restraints around his limbs.

Mustering his strength, he clenched the bottle as hard as he possibly could, felt a snap soon after. He hissed as he felt the glass cut through the skin of his palm and fingers. He flexed his fingers to test if they were still working properly and let out a sigh of relief when they did, fortunately it didn't cut too deep, it bled profusely though.   
Grabbing one of the bigger shards in his bloody hands, he angled it so he could start cutting the rope around his wrists. He glanced around the camp as he continued cutting, making sure none of the alphas was waking up.

The rope snapped and he moved to working on the rest. He could barely believe it when he had cut through the last of the ropes. He glanced around the camp yet again and when he deemed it safe enough, he slowly stood up upon shaky legs, swaying dangerously to the right as he took a small step. He felt trickles of blood running down his legs, but paid no further mind to it. He looked around and supported himself on the fallen down tree, seeing his pants on the ground behind it. Crawling over to it, he clutched the fabric in his hands and quickly slipped the material over his bruised legs, the blood seeping into the fabric almost immediately He couldn't find his boots though, but didn't bother searching for them.

Groaning in pain, he silently dragged his body along the camp, keeping his eyes on the alphas as he searched for his weapons. Eventually he found them lying in a box at the back of one of the empty tents, his satchel and the rest of his belongings were all there as well. It was hard to imagine how careless and naïve these men really were.   
When he slipped his gun belt on, he pulled his hunting knife out, he glanced down at the knife clutched in his bloody hand and back to the sleeping alphas. He should kill them, he knew if he didn't, he would take the risk of getting caught by them again. It's not like he wanted to take revenge on them, like he always said; vengeance is an idiot's game, It was a luxury he couldn't afford. 

But this wasn't about revenge, this was about survival.

Making up his mind, he clenched the knife in his hand and silently crept over to the nearest alpha. He was lucky his body seemed to want to help protect himself as it kept the nearing heat repressed for the time being. The adrenaline that was still running high through his system was probably the cause of it. It was a lot easier to focus, keep his head calm and collected without the heat disrupting his senses.

He crouched down next to the sleeping alpha. Without hesitating he quickly put one hand over the alpha's mouth as the other hand slid the man's throat in one swift movement. The alpha gurgled, his eyes widening as he protested and clutched at Arthur's sleeves. He angrily spat out spit and blood before eventually succumbing to his imminent death.

Letting out a sigh he didn't knew he was holding, Arthur let go of the man and limped to the next nearest alpha, giving him the same treatment as the other. 

Only four left.

If one of them would wake up right at this moment, Arthur knew he would be in serious trouble. Of course he was armed now, but his body was in a weakened state and it would be four against one. It felt tempting to just leave, get on Avalon’s back and run. But the thought of getting caught a third time, it made his stomach turn. His mind made up, he quickly turned and went back to the task at hand.   
He slit the throats of two more alphas.

Looking down at his bloody hands and sleeves, Arthur didn't know which blood belonged to himself and which blood belonged to the men he had just killed.

“…What.. the HELL is going on here!?”

Arthur jumped, shivers ran up his spine by the sudden loud voice behind him and looked over his shoulder, seeing broad feller crawl up to his feet, the alpha next to him was stirring and waking up as well.

Shit.

He slowly turned and stared back into broad feller's furious dark eyes, Arthur slowly sheathed his knife and let his hand hover above the gun at his hip.

“You little shit…” Broad feller growled, the alpha next to him sat up as well, taking in the sight of his dead comrades. Within seconds he was wide awake as well.

“Goddamn… Shit….” The alpha mumbled, looking shocked. “He killed all of them!” He half yelled as he crawled onto his feet and charged at Arthur, blind fury in his eyes as he launched himself on top of the omega. They both fell down on the ground with the alpha on top. When he was about to smash his fists into Arthur's face, a loud bang echoed through the dark forest. The alpha gasped, a blank look in his eyes as he slowly fell forward on top of Arthur, taking his last breath.

Arthur quickly tried to push and kick the man off of him, trying to free the smoking gun in his hands to kill the last remaining alpha. But before he was able to get himself free, he felt a large hand grabbing him by the hair, roughly pulling him from underneath the dead man and pushing him against the fallen down tree, his gun had dropped from his hands and he felt big hands wrapping themselves around his throat.

“You goddamn bastard!” Broad feller spat, his face inches away from Arthur's. “You killed them!” His hands’ grip tightened around Arthur's throat. “You killed all of them”

Arthur gasped and choked, clawing at the alpha's hands to loosen the grip, his vision was darkening as the air to his lungs was cut off. He needed to act. And fast. If he lost consciousness, he wouldn't be waking up anymore. He let his hands drop and searched along his hip, stopped when he felt the familiar leather of the sheath of his hunting knife. He swiftly slipped his fingers inside and pulled the knife out, in one quick movement pushing the knife up and into broad feller's chest. The grip on his neck loosened almost instantly and Arthur took the chance to push the knife deeper inside the man's chest, twisting it.

Broad feller gasped and stumbled backwards, staring down at the knife in his chest. He opened his mouth, but closed it again when the only successful sound he was able to make, were raspy breaths. He fell to his knees and fell sideways onto the ground. There were a few more agonizing hitched breathes before the forest went silent again.

Arthur stared at the lifeless body of broad feller and eventually dropped himself on his hands and knees, taking deep shaky breaths as he rubbed his sore neck. His head was still swaying from the lack of oxygen. After a few minutes he felt a little bit better and slowly stood up upon wobbly legs. 

He felt absolutely terrible, not just physically, but mostly mentally. He glanced around the camp, at the lifeless corpses of the men he had just killed, there was blood everywhere. He thought about looting, it was what he normally did after killing someone. But the thought of having too touch these men yet again made him sick to the stomach. He had to get out of here.

He turned on his heel and looked around for Avalon. A few yards away, he spotted the mahogany dappled horse next to the other horses behind some trees. He quickly limped over to him, Avalon whinnying at him when they met eyes, the horse still looking slightly skittish.

“It okay, boy…” His voice raspy and strained, trying to calm the horse down as he ran his hand through the horse's manes. He grabbed Avalon's reins, unhitched them and guided the horse away from the others. Grabbing the saddle horn and putting his foot into the stirrup, he slowly lifted himself up in the saddle with quite a lot of difficulty. He hissed in pain when he sat down, his lower body felt like he had been trampled by a herd of bison, it was a better thought than knowing what really had happened to him though.. 

Clcking his tongue, Arthur steered Avalon away from the camp and tried to remember which way he had to go to get back to the creek. Following it downstream was his best chance to get back to a road or somewhere familiar. There also was a big chance the creek would lead him to a familiar river, like the Dakota or the Upper Montana river. If he got there, there was a possibility he could find his way back.

His body was breaking down as the adrenaline ebbed away from his system. He already started to feel the small signs of his heat peeking around the corner again. He was sweating and his skin starting to get sensitive and tingly again. Ignoring it, he tried to concentrate on his surroundings, thought he could hear the babbling of the creek a bit further away. He followed the sound and soon enough found the peaceful stream meandering through the forest. Following it downstream, he gave his weary body some slack and leaned slightly forward over Avalon's shoulders. He was so goddamn tired.

He had to think of a plan though. Where would he go? There was a reason he was in this situation, his upcoming heat had made him escape from the gang. But the thought of having to be alone wasn't a welcome thought at all, he really wanted to go home, to his family, even to Dutch. He also knew he was in bad shape, the adrenaline had kept him going, but he knew his body well enough to know he would collapse soon enough and urgently needed care. He was covered by numerous cuts and bruises, his head was still throbbing and he knew he had broken at least a rib or two, probably more, his ankle didn't feel right either. He was still bleeding from his hand where he had been cut by the glass and by now the fabric of his pants was soaked as well, he still hadn't stopped bleeding from his lower body. It was slightly worrisome.

Though there was no time to worry over his injuries as he continued following the stream through the dark forest, feeling extremely anxious and on edge. He would twitch and spur Avalon on when hearing the smallest of noises. In his head he was convinced there would be more of those alphas in the area and they would hunt him down if they caught a whiff of him.

Looking up, Arthur noticed the sky was getting lighter, it was a welcoming sight after the ominous darkness that had surrounded him for so long. But when he heard the snap of a twig behind him, his relief quickly washed away and turned into fear. He dug his heels into Avalon's sides The horse, still slightly skittish, reacted almost immediately and ran off through the forest. Grabbing a hold of Avalon's manes, Arthur leaned forward, grunting in pain as the horse's movements shook through his aching body. Soon enough he lost track of the creek, but instead found a narrow trail he could follow down the hill. Eventually the trail ended up in a bigger road, only then did he pull on the reins to slow Avalon down into a slower gallop. From afar he could see the lights of a small town and when he came closer he saw a familiar welcome sign. 

Strawberry.

He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry. It was still quite a ride back home, but at least he knew where he was. He thought about stopping, take a rest and take care of his injuries. Quickly thought against it when he felt his heat getting stronger by the second. He spurred Avalon on and galloped through the small logging town. It was still early and thankfully the streets were mostly empty.

At the saloon he saw a couple of men leaning against the balustrade, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer, they watched him as he passed by. Feeling their stares, Arthur urged Avalon to go faster. He didn't know if the men were alphas or betas, whatever they were, he didn't want to find out. He knew his scent was getting stronger and sweeter by the second and it was confirmed when he heard the men yelling out to him when he rode out of Strawberry. They had probably caught a whiff of his scent.

Fortunately the men hadn't decided to follow him though, probably too drunk or just didn't care enough.

Eventually the road ended up at the Dakota river and Arthur let out a sigh of relief, camp wasn't far now. He uncomfortably shifted in the saddle, feeling wetness and wasn't sure if it was caused by the blood or if he was starting to secrete a decent amount of slick. Could be both.

The rest of the ride home wasn't far, but felt like ages. He was sweating profusely now, his body aching and frustrated as he rocked in the saddle. Felt the familiar feeling of desperation crawling up into his system, the feeling of want. By the time he rode into the trail that led him to the camp, he was exhausted and in so much pain, so much desperation, he was starting to get completely overwhelmed by all the discomfort.

“Who's there?!”

He heard the voice of Bill, but couldn't do much more than let out a pained grunt, which sounded closer to a whimper. 

When he rode into camp, morning had settled in and he could see some of the gang members had woken up already, busying themselves on their daily chores. He halted Avalon at the hitching post, took hold of the saddle horn and slowly lifted his leg to slip off the saddle. When his foot hit the ground and he tried to support his weight, his legs buckled underneath him and he slumped down on his back in the cool damp grass, completely and utterly drained. His breathing labored and his vision swaying.

“Hey!”

He heard a loud voice and looked up, seeing a bewildered Bill staring down at him. His shocked expression soon changed when he took in his scent, his eyes darkening almost within seconds.

“Shit! Morgan!” 

The commotion had probably attracted the attention of fellow other gang members as he soon saw the faces of miss Grimshaw and Tilly hovering over him. Their expressions worried and troubled as they helped him sit up.

“Oh my god, Arthur! Are you okay?” He thought he heard Mary-Beth gasp, felt a soft gentle hand on his shoulder, her comforting beta scent easing his nerves.

From his right he could see Bill hovering over him and the girls, his eyes still dark as he stared at Arthur. His smell was strong and it made him feel anxious.

“Out of the way, mister Williamson!” Miss Grimshaw ordered, surely noticing the dark look in the alpha's eyes. “You won't be of much help!” She chirped as she and Mary-Beth helped Arthur stand up upon his wobbly legs, supporting his weight as they guided him through camp, away from Bill. Charles stepped up to them, worry written all over his face as he took over from Mary-Beth, his arm sliding underneath Arthur's armpits, he was strong enough to support Arthur's weight on his own. Miss Grimshaw let go of Arthur as well and hurried over to gather the supplies needed. She fussed at the other women in camp, getting them to help gathering everything to treat Arthur.

“What happened to him?! A…Arthur….” 

Arthur could hear the familiar voice of Dutch when they came close to the man's tent, he saw the look in Dutch's eyes change drastically when the scent of his heat hit his nose. Right at that moment, Hosea stepped up and grabbed Dutch's shoulder, easing him away from them. He must have noticed the scent as well.

“Come on, Dutch… Give them some space..” He muttered calmly, his eyes worried as he watched the group drag Arthur to his cot. 

Dutch kept his stare on Arthur's frame as Hosea pulled him away from camp. Not uttering another word, just kept staring as he let himself be led away.

……………………………..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rape scene, was an intense thing to write. I‘m sorry Arthur.


	3. Chapter 3

“Dutch, get away from the boy's tent.” 

Hosea warned, he was sitting, reading a book at the table, watching Dutch walk by him, snarling. Charles was sitting the opposite of him at the table and raised his eyebrows. Dutch had been restless ever since Arthur had came in this morning, injured, bruised, beaten. 

And in heat.

Dutch wasn't the only one restless though, the other two alphas in camp, Micah and Bill, hadn't been unaffected as well. They kept lingering around Arthur's tent, getting chased away by Dutch whenever they got too close. Thankfully John was unaffected by it, he had bonded with Abigail and was only affected when she went into heat. But still, the balance in their camp always got easily disrupted whenever one of the omegas went into heat or one of the alphas went into rut. Hosea just hoped Arthur's heat wouldn't get one of the alphas rutting. He stared at his book, not really able to read, flicked a page and eventually gave up. He glanced at Charles across from him, who gave him a knowing look in return. They were both worried.

When Arthur had left the day before, no one had put any thought to it, probably went out to hunt or get some supplies for Pearson. Arthur was capable enough to handle his own. But everything made sense to Hosea when he came back, beaten and bruised, reeking of other alphas. Arthur had probably left to avoid Dutch when he felt the first hints of his heat nearing. Hosea knew how much Arthur disliked being an omega, how much he disliked being in heat and how much he disliked it when Dutch tried to get with him. He had tried talking with Dutch about it, but the alpha wanted to hear none of it.

He thought, as a gang leader and as an alpha, it was his right to take Arthur. Unfortunately for him, Arthur wanted none of it. Even after eighteen years.

Hosea glanced around the camp. The other gang members hadn't been in good spirits ever since Arthur had returned. Everyone had seen it, everyone had smelled it, how Arthur’s scent had been affected by the strong musky smells of other alphas. It wasn't difficult to put two and two together to know what had happened to him..

He saw miss Grimshaw stepping out of the tent, pushing the covers aside they had set up around Arthur's cot to give the man some privacy. He saw the worry written in the creases of her face. She pulled her skirt straight and met his eyes, sighing and walking over to him.

“How is he, Susan?” 

She huffed. They all knew the answer to that question.

“He's in a bad way.” She said eventually, standing next to the table, her eyes wandering back over to Arthur's tent. “Bruises, broken bones, cuts... Unfortunately that's not all. Almost looks like.. they ripped him apart… And his heat ain't helping much either.”

Hosea and Charles frowned, but said nothing. What could they say?

“You have to keep Dutch away from him. You're the only one he'll listen to.” Miss Grimshaw continued, her eyes sharp as she eyed Dutch from afar, the alpha was restlessly pacing alongside the cliff, a cigar in his hand, every once and a while he would stare in the direction of Arthur's tent. The three betas at the table shared troubled looks.

“I know.” Hosea said, a serious look in his eyes. “Don't know for how long he'll listen to me though..”

Miss Grimshaw frowned. “He's in no shape to be dealing with Dutch at the moment.”

“I know… I know..” Hosea said again and sighed, scrubbing his hand across his face.

“I'll help out as much as I can.” Charles spoke up calmly, joining into the conversation.

“Very much appreciated, mister Smith.” Miss Grimshaw turned to him. “Now if you don't mind me, I have to get back to mister Morgan, get him something to drink.”

Hosea nodded absentmindedly, his eyes focused on Arthur's tent, worry written all over his face. Running a hand through his hair, he let out a deep sigh.

“Hosea..”

He glanced at Charles, who had a warning look on his face and nodded his head in the direction of Dutch.

Dutch was coming over to them, walking with big steps, a snarl on his face.

“Dutch.” Hosea said calmly as the alpha halted before them.

“I want to see him.”

“You can't, Dutch.” Hosea replied simply and stood up, raising his hand to let it rest on Dutch's shoulder, looking into his friend's eyes.

“I am not asking, Hosea.”

Hosea sighed and squeezed Dutch's shoulder, from the corner of his eye he saw Charles slowly standing up, keeping his hands on the table and his eyes on Dutch. 

“He's in bad shape, Dutch.” Hosea needn't say more, they both knew Dutch never was able to control himself whenever Arthur was in heat. Hosea never liked it when the other man forced himself upon Arthur whenever he was in heat. He as a beta never had much of a say in this to help Arthur, but right now he just couldn't let Dutch do as he pleased. 

A dangerous look crossed Dutch's dark eyes.

“He's mine, Hosea.” Dutch snapped. “And some filthy disgusting lowlifes touched him. Even worse, they took him. Like he was theirs to take!” He, pushed Hosea's hand off of him and angrily waved his cigar in the air. “He still reeks of them other alphas, it's disgusting and an insult to me.” He spat.

“He's not yours, Dutch.”

Dutch shot him an angry glare in warning and started pacing around in front of him, taking a deep drag of his cigar. Arthur not accepting the bonding between them, it was a sensitive subject no one in camp dared to talk about.

“If Arthur had just accepted our bonding the last time, this would've never happened.” He hissed and threw his cigar on the ground, crushing the butt beneath his heel. 

“I know you're angry, Dutch. But you need to calm down.”

“I. Am. Calm. Hosea” Dutch spat, his voice dangerously low.

Hosea sighed and grabbed Dutch's shoulder again, squeezing it lightly. “Take the Count and get a hotel room in Valentine, Dutch. You're not getting anywhere near our boy tonight.” He said calmly, but strictly.

Dutch growled, he could hardly believe his ears. He was used to Hosea talking back to him, but it was unusual for the beta to order him around. He glanced at Charles, who was also standing and staring at him, the large beta was standing his ground, he noted.

“He's badly injured, Dutch.. He needs rest.” Hosea said, he squeezed the alpha's shoulder a little bit harder. “Just for one night.” He knew one night wasn't anywhere near enough for Arthur to recover or to get rid of his heat, but it would buy them some time.

Dutch's eyes shifted from Hosea’s to Charles', eventually he sighed. 

“Fine.” He snarled, giving in. “One night.”

Hosea nodded in gratitude. “One night, Dutch.”

Dutch turned on his heel. “Micah, Bill, you're coming with me.” He ordered and walked up to the Count, grabbed the saddle horn and lifted himself up on the horse's back. He turned the Count to look one more time in the direction of Arthur's tent, his eyes dark. When the other two were on their respected mounts as well, Dutch clicked his tongue, urging his horse into a swift gallop, the other two following after him.

“Arthur can't be here when Dutch comes back.” Charles said calmly, but his eyes were boring into Hosea's.

“I know..” Hosea said for the umpteenth time that day.

…………………………………………….

When Arthur woke up, he was overwhelmed by the warmth and the shivers that ran over his entire body. But the most powerful feeling, was the raw want that ran through his system. He also felt pain, but it felt like nothing, compared to the feeling of need. 

He needed to be filled.   
He needed an alpha.

He let out a soft grunt, which sounded close to a whine.

“Arthur..”

Opening his eyes, he hadn't noticed he had them clenched shut. Arthur looked up with blurry eyes, smelled the gentle comforting omega scent even before he met her eyes. Abigail.   
He wanted to sit up, but when he tried to, pain shot through his lower body and he fell back in the sheets.

“Calm down, Arthur. You're in a bad way…”

Her voice sounded pained, her eyes looked no better.

“Here, you gotta drink something..”

Arthur groaned in pain, never had he felt like this before. He was in so much pain, his lower body was aching, his skin was burning, there was so much want and need, just too much discomfort for one man to handle. When she helped him lift his head to take a few sips, he choked on the liquid, It tasted terrible, tasted like one of Hosea's awful herb teas.

Abigail gave him a sympathetic smile, her eyes still worried and her lips pressed into a thin line.

“What did they do to you, Arthur…” She mumbled, it wasn't meant as a question and she didn't expect an answer. Not like Arthur could provide it to her. He could barely remember at the moment, the only thing he was able to register was the dreadful want and need to be filled by an alpha.

Arthur let out a deep raspy breath.

“I… need..” He grunted, half whimpered. When his hands clenched the sheets underneath him, he groaned in pain and held up his left hand to look at it. It was covered in bandages. He remembered glass, a bottle he had broken with his hand. His memories were still a blur though, pushed to the back of his head by the heat that had taken over his body.

He glanced at Abigail. “W-what happened..?” His voice was raspy and his breathing slightly labored.

“You don't remember?” She almost looked relieved, but her eyes turned a bit more serious again. “You came in hurt, Arthur… I can still smell them alphas on you..”

Arthur froze.

Alphas.

He remembered now. The men that took him, beat him.

Raped him.

Abigail noticed his inner turmoil and put her soft hand on his lower arm, squeezing gently.

“It's okay, Arthur. You're safe now…”

Arthur jumped at the gentle touch, but calmed down within seconds, tried not to show it to her. He didn't want her to worry. He glanced at her and looked back up at the ceiling of his tent, thinking about her words. 

Safe. He didn't feel safe.

“Dutch's here, ain't he?” He growled out eventually, his voice low. Abigail thought she could hear a soft hint of panic. 

“He ain't gonna touch you, Arthur.” She tried to calm him. “You're injured, you need rest.”

“I'm in heat, Abigail.” He gave her a sharp look. “And I reek of other alphas. He'll be wanting to put his scent on me as soon as possible, hurt or not.”

Abigail didn't know how to respond, she wanted to comfort the other, tell him Dutch wouldn't, but a part of her knew Arthur was right. It was hard for Dutch to control himself when involving Arthur. There also was a real personal thing going on between the two, had been for over eighteen years now. Ever since Arthur rejected Dutch.

Arthur sighed and hid his face behind his arm. “Goddammit…”

Abigail gave him a sad look. “It ain't an easy life… being an omega.” She said, her eyes solemn. “I'm just lucky I found John..” Her hand went up to the mark at the juncture of her neck.  
Arthur didn't respond, he didn't need to, he was happy for her and they both knew that. He was happy she found a mate who treated her right after all the hardship she had gone through.

Their silence was interrupted when the flap of the tent was pushed aside and miss Grimshaw stepped inside the small space, her nostrils flaring when she took in the strong heady scent of an omega in heat, the scent surrounded her within seconds. She wasn't affected by it though, only the alphas were drawn to it. She glanced around, saw how Arthur hid his face underneath his arm. Quickly drew the conclusion he was awake.

“You got him to drink?” She asked curtly and put some folded clean sheets on the chest near Arthur's feet.

Abigail nodded. “A bit.”

Arthur glanced at miss Grimshaw from underneath his arm.

“How are you feeling, mister Morgan.” She asked, her voice a bit more gentle, more sympathetic.

“Miserable.”

She sighed. “I'm sorry to hear that..” She replied and sat down on the cot next to his legs. “Now you ain't going to like this, but I got to inspect your wound.”

“Which one?” Arthur grunted, his voice muffled by his arm, sounding bitter and amused both at the same time.

“Between your legs, Arthur… They tore you open..” She said, trying to hide the pity in her voice, she knew how much Arthur disliked it when anyone pitied him. “I stitched you up when you were unconscious, but it's a difficult area, we need to keep an eye on it, so you won't get an infection..” She rolled up her sleeves.

Arthur stayed silent, wanted to object so badly, felt so goddamned ashamed and weak. Wanted to push and kick them away. The thought of having to spread his legs, having people watching him spread them again, it made him sick to the stomach. He swallowed thickly, rubbed his face deeper into his arm, hiding himself. How he just wished he could crawl in a corner and vanish right then and there.

He felt a gentle hand on his thigh, felt the sheets pushed up to his waist and his lower body exposed and vulnerable. Miss Grimshaw wasn't waiting for him to respond, she knew he wouldn't. She worked fast, urged him to lift his knees and spread them. He felt her fingers on him, gently pushing his cheeks aside to inspect the wound. He shivered and moved his arm and instead rubbed his eyes and temples with his hand. He felt Abigail's soft hand squeeze his arm, trying to give him some comfort and support. It wasn't really working though.

“Your slick is probably going to make it difficult for the skin to heal, but at least it stopped bleeding..” She said calmly and grabbed a small jar next to her. She spread some substance on her fingers and Arthur could feel her cover the wound with it, he noticed how it eased the soreness a bit. 

“Hosea made this for you, I think he said there’s honey, ginseng and milkweed mixed in it, soothes the pain he said..” 

She looked up at him and gently urged him to put his legs down again. “For now it looks good.” She covered his legs with the sheets and Arthur let out a raspy sigh of relief. “Let me get a look at that hand of yours.”

He stretched out his hand for her to take it. Taking the bandages off, she treated the wound with care, also putting some of Hosea's herb substance on it. Wrapping the wound back up, she looked slightly pleased and took her attention to his neck. His neck was slightly swollen and bruised, painful red abrasions going around his throat caused by the rope the alphas had lassoed him with and tied him up with. She cleaned the wounds a bit and covered the abrasions with the herb substance as well. She left it at that, better to leave the shallow wounds to dry in the air.

“That's all I can do for now, all those bruises will have to heal by themselves.” She said and stood up, using her skirt to wipe off the remaining herb substance. Suddenly she looked to the side, her eyes narrowed and concentrated, she furrowed her brows as she tried to pick up the scents in the air, Arthur and Abigail noticed as well. 

Dutch, Bill and Micah were leaving camp.

“Excuse me.” Miss Grimshaw said curtly and walked out of the tent. She strode over to Hosea and Charles who were watching the alphas leave.

“You got him to leave?” She asked, her face looked astounded and her voice sounding almost incredulous.

Hosea raised his eyebrows and turned to her, he also looked slightly in awe. “I guess I did..” He said, scratching his chin. “Only for the night though..”

Miss Grimshaw hummed in response, resting her hands on her hips, looking to be in thought. 

“He needs to leave camp, go somewhere safe till his heat has passed.” She spoke up eventually.

“We were thinking the same thing.” Hosea nodded, looking over at Arthur's tent. “Who's going with him though and where to?”

“I volunteer.” Charles spoke up, his voice calm and his eyes serious.

Hosea gave him a funny look. “Hmm that's one, but you're not going alone. It ain't particularly safe to travel with an omega in heat.” Hosea scrubbed a hand across his face as his eyes wandered over the gang members that were working around camp. “You have two others in mind?” 

Charles shrugged. “Maybe Javier.” He opted as his eyes searched around the camp for one man particular. Normally they would take Arthur on these kinds of missions. “You think John is an option?” 

Hosea nodded slowly, weighing one's options. “He might be. Since he's bonded to Abigail, he shouldn't be all too affected by Arthur's scent.. It would be wise to bring an alpha along. His scent could put off other alphas.” 

“I'll let the girls pack his things as I'll hook one of the horses up to the wagon.” Miss Grimshaw spoke up and strode off in the direction where she last saw Tilly and Mary-Beth washing dirty clothes.

Hosea glanced at Charles, the beta was closely watching Arthur's tent. “Where will you go?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Charles replied simply.

“Hmm.. I'll inform Javier and John. You get the horses ready.”

Charles nodded and turned on his heel as Hosea watched him go. He shook his head and sighed, scrubbing his hand across his face. Their problems sure hadn't ceased one bit.

…………………………………………….

It was getting dark when they were about ready to leave. The chance of running into other alphas on the road would be slimmer if they traveled at night. Charles tied Taima's reins to the back of the wagon and climbed onto the front, grabbing the reins in one hand. They had helped Arthur get inside the back of the wagon a couple of minutes ago. It hadn't gone smoothly. 

Not at all. 

Arthur was a big strong feller and too stubborn for his own good. He hadn't wanted help and he most definitely hadn't wanted anyone touching him. He had stumbled and fallen onto his hands and knees multiple times, every time he would reject anyone offering to help him. Eventually he ended up at the wagon, unable to climb in the back. It was a sorry sight to behold, the normally strong man, sweating, quivering and limping, a blanket tightly wrapped around his shoulders to hide his body and his scent. It wasn't hard to imagine his stubbornness though. Charles couldn't blame the other after all he had been through.

In the back of the covered wagon they had set up somewhat of a bed for Arthur, a big pile of soft blankets where he could sleep and rest his beaten body. The girls had also packed up provisions for at least three days, they could also hunt some game if it was necessary.

Charles glanced to his side, saw John standing next to Old Boy, reins hanging loose in one hand, his eyes scanning the camp, probably looking for Abigail and Jack who soon after, came over to him. To his other side was Javier, brushing Boaz's coat before lifting himself up in the wagon next to Charles. They were about ready to leave.

Defying Dutch though. Charles reckoned it wasn't a thing the gang had ever done before, but for now it had to be done, it was something everyone had silently agreed upon. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Arthur’s bruised face peek out in between the blankets. He was already fast asleep, his breathing labored even in his sleep. He suddenly looked so small and somewhat fragile. A sight he hadn't seen on the man before in the short time he'd been in the gang. He flared his nostrils, took in the sweet scent of the other. It was a rather pleasant smell, even for him. Though the scent wasn't as strong as it normally would be. Hosea had made sure to rub some fresh herbs onto Arthur's scent glands before they went. It didn't hide all of it though, but it helped some.

When John had said his goodbyes to Abigail and Jack, he mounted Old Boy and nodded at Charles. They were ready to take their leave.  
Charles glanced around once more, when he was sure they were all ready, he clicked his tongue and urged the white shire in a gentle trot, steering the wagon out of camp. They had discussed going up north, where there would be less civilization, meaning less alphas. 

Though they weren't particularly eager to go back to the cold so soon.

…………………………………………….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting real doubts about this story. Writing an alpha/omega story is maybe a bit too much of a thing for me.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been a bumpy ride, shaking him awake after one of the wheels rolled over a particular large rock. He blinked his eyes, feeling warmth, but also feeling cold. When he lifted his bandaged hand out of between the blankets and up in the air, he noticed it was freezing cold at his bare fingertips. When he exhaled, he saw a cloud of condensed air.

He still felt feverishly warm though and pushed some of the blankets off of himself.

A few seconds later he saw Charles' head peaking inside the wagon, his brows furrowing, the smallest hint of concern crossing over his features. “Arthur, you have to get yourself covered up, your scent got stronger a few seconds ago.” He said, his eyes calm and sympathetic.

“Sure…” Arthur grunted in slight disdain, pulling the blankets up over his sweating and shivering body.

“I'm sorry, my friend.” An apologetic look crossed over Charles features. “We're almost there..” He said before retreating.

Arthur let out a raspy sigh in response and shifted uncomfortably underneath the blankets, looking up at the canvas that covered the wagon. A harsh freezing wind was whipping at the wagon, a howling sound emitted as it blew through cracks and passed fabric.  
He saw a small hint of light peaking through, it was probably early in the morning, they had ridden for the whole night already. It wouldn't be long before Dutch would come back and notice Arthur's missing along with three other gang members..

Groaning in pain, Arthur shifted in a more upright position. He felt his ribs protesting at the small movement. The wound between his legs was throbbing and aching. He was grateful he hadn't felt the urge to take a shit.

Not yet anyway.

Feeling a shiver running up his spine and a familiar wetness between his legs, he noted his heat was still very much present. He felt irritable and anxious, felt his instincts wanting to take control, felt the unwanted urge to touch himself, to fill himself, most importantly: find an alpha. His body longed for it, while his head despised it. It always felt like he was born in the wrong body.

Glancing at the front of the wagon, he saw the back of Javier's and Charles' heads. He really appreciated them getting him away from Dutch, he really did. But it would only lead to more trouble. He felt undeserving of his family's kindness, he wasn't worth all this commotion. Dutch would be furious as well. Hosea and the other gang members surely would get an earful. 

It wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth it.

Of course he'd rather not stay around Dutch in his condition and he surely didn't want to be ungrateful. But he couldn't help but feel this was all a mistake. He sure as Hell didn't want to be the cause of a divide in the gang.

He felt the wagon come to a halt, after a minute or so he saw Charles climb inside from the front, crouching next to him. Arthur wanted to remove the blankets, get himself up and off the wagon, but before he was able to, he felt a warm heavy hand on his shoulder, keeping him down. The gentle touch irritated his skin, it hurt him.

“Calm down, my friend.” Charles said carefully.

He thought it almost sounded like a plea, but wasn't too sure. The other man was experienced in hiding his emotions. Something he was familiar with all too well himself. He decided, for once, to listen, he respected Charles and knew the other man wasn't here to make a fool out of Arthur. He was here to help.

He heard some shuffling outside in the freezing cold and saw Javier’s and John’s faces appear at the back of the wagon, John grabbed a crate filled with provisions and moved away with it, while Javier seemed to wait for Arthur to crawl out of the place. When he felt Charles' strong arm circle around his waist, he let out a soft keening whine and furrowed his brows in shame almost immediately afterwards. His body was craving for touch, while his tormented mind was screaming no, the violating and bruising hands still all too fresh on his mind.

He tried to push the thoughts away, the memories, the touches, but found it hard to. Real hard. His breath hitched.

He froze.

Charles noticed almost immediately and let go of his waist in an instant, hesitating before he slowly let his hand rest on Arthur's shoulder. He didn't say anything, something Arthur very much appreciated.

He noticed how the images and memories in his head were starting to blur, vanishing back to his mind where he could lock them back up, wrap a heavy chained lock around them and throw the key away. He swallowed thickly and glanced up, he only just now noticed his eyes had been fixated on nothing, staring down into the steely gray fabric of the blankets. His eyes met Javier's questioning stare, only then was he really able to snap out of it.

“Come on, brother. Let's get you out of here.” Javier spoke up and held out his hand for Arthur to take it, seeming oblivious to what had just happened. Arthur was grateful for that. 

Unfortunately Charles seemed not so oblivious. 

The large man was keeping a close eye on him as he helped Arthur out of the wagon and onto his wobbly feet. Arthur shifted his feet through the snow, tested his unstable ankle and glanced around his surroundings as he wrapped the blanket closer around his trembling body. They were at a small frozen body of water, big mountains towering around them, there was a small cabin hidden in the mountain's shadow. He hadn't been here before, but the harsh area reminded him of Colter, of Grizzlies West.

“We're at Barrow Lagoon.” Charles answered his unasked question. “Come on, let's get you inside..” He and Javier walked next to him, only helping him when he was about to fall. His fingers clenched around the railing when he stepped up the wooden stairs that led to the cabin's entrance. He was hurting, everything hurt, and it wasn't just from his injuries, the heat made his body ache, his skin felt irritated and burning hot. It was getting unbearable, even his clothes were starting to feel unbearable on his skin.

When stepping inside, Arthur noticed the simplicity of the small narrow space, some chairs, a table and a broken down bunk bed in the back. In the middle of the cabin there was an old steel heater where John was trying to start a fire, cursing profanities as the damp wood made it hard to. Eventually he succeeded and a warming light spread over the room like a soft blanket.

John grumbled, grabbing a chair to sit in front of the heater, warm his frozen limbs. “Back in the goddamn cold again.” He muttered and breathed air into his hands, hoping to warm them back up. Javier took the chair next to him, stretched out his arms to warm his hands at the fire. 

When Arthur limped passed them, guided by Charles, he noted how John averted his eyes and grabbed a cloth out of his pocket, bringing it to his nose, deeply inhaling. He knew and understood what the other was doing, could smell what he was doing. 

John had told him before the cloth held Abigail’s scent in it. It comforted him when he was separated from her. To ease the ache, fill a bit of the emptiness, keep the both of them connected and close, he had said.  
Arthur also knew it was a distraction. To distract his alpha instincts when close to an omega in heat. He wasn't as much affected, since he had Abigail as his mate, but still, he was instinctively drawn to it. John hadn't told him that though. It was embarrassing, for the both of them. Arthur never brought it up.

Charles put the big pile of blankets on the bottom bed, it didn't have a mattress or anything in the like so the blankets had to do to give him some comfort. He kept two blankets apart to tie them up around the bed, giving Arthur some privacy and helping in hiding his scent.

Arthur let himself fall on top of the blankets, shook his boots off, withstanding the urge to writhe when he lay down. When Charles sat down next to him and closed the covers around them, Arthur looked up at the other. The other man looked… uncomfortable?

“Look.. Arthur.” Charles started and paused again, he leaned down and grabbed what seemed like a bandage kit that was put in the crate near his feet.

Arthur understood almost immediately, Charles needed to treat his wounds..

“Miss Grimshaw asked me to take care of your wounds.. clean them.” Charles said slowly, carefully putting his hand to rest on top of Arthur's upper leg. “I'm sorry to ask, friend..”

Arthur's face turned red, feeling shame. The hand on his leg, it burned. Everything felt like a goddamn mess.

“Sure…” Arthur grumbled out eventually as he started fumbling on the buttons of his pants underneath the blankets. His hands were shaking as he worked the fabric down his legs and reluctantly pushed the covers off, leaving his lower body bare and vulnerable to the open freezing air. Lifting his knees up, he spread his legs, feeling vulnerable, anxious and restless as he kept his gaze upwards, staring at nothing in particular.

Charles looked at his face, kept his gaze off Arthur's lower region. He grabbed the things needed and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He quickly went to work, wiped the slick away from Arthur's cheeks with a clean towel, trying to ignore the irritated low whine that slipped out of the other's mouth.  
When he stared at the wound, he tried not to think too much about it, he failed though. The alphas had really put a number on his friend, it was difficult to imagine how sex could lead to such injuries. After disinfecting the wound, he grabbed a jar with a strange green substance inside it, miss Grimshaw had ordered him to use it to treat the wounds. There was a familiar smell of ginseng and honey.

After treating the wound, he wanted to help Arthur back into his pants again, but the other shrugged him off. Heard him swallow thickly as he settled back down in the blankets, leaving his lower body bare. Arthur was distancing himself, he was unresponsive and looked irritable. It was probably all getting too much for him at the moment. 

“Get some sleep, I'll treat the rest of your wounds after you've taken some rest.”

Arthur nodded gratefully, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he turned his back to him, wrapping the blankets close to his chin.

Charles wiped his hands on his pants and stood up. He left the bed and grabbed a chair to sit opposite the other two at the heater. The temperature in the small cabin was getting more comfortable by the second, the heat warming up his freezing limbs. Javier had made some coffee, offered him a cup, which he accepted gratefully.

“How is he?” Javier asked as he took a sip of his coffee, his brows raised in question.

“Hmm, I'm not so sure.” Charles replied as he brought his own cup to his lips to take a sip. In all honesty, he really didn't. He was quite sure Arthur would heal from the physical wounds, he wasn't too sure about the mental wounds though.

Javier nodded, his brows narrowing slightly as he took another sip of his coffee. “Well he's been through a lot.”

“He has.” Charles replied shortly, keeping his eyes downwards on his coffee. He didn't want to talk about it, he didn't want to tell them about the injury he had just treated. He respected Arthur, didn't want to humiliate the other man any further.

Javier sighed and focused his own gaze on his coffee when he noticed Charles wasn't planning on telling him any more details. He was tired, they were all tired and freezing yet again. They had ridden through the entire night to get here.  
He had suggested going here, regretted it almost instantly when he remembered the freezing cold. He had found the place the last time they were in Grizzlies West, escaping from the law. He, being one of the few healthy uninjured men, Dutch had send him out to inspect the area and eventually ended up finding this desolate place. It hadn't been useful back then, but it was ideal for now, the cold would block Arthur's scent and very few men dared to enter these unforgiving mountains.

“How's the face, John?” Javier asked subtly, trying to get a conversation going. He regretted not taking his trusty guitar with him.

John scrubbed a hand over the fresh scars on his face. “…’m fine.” He grunted. “Freezing yet again, but fine…”

Javier nodded and drank the rest of his coffee in one go. “Good to hear, brother.” He fumbled with the ear of his now empty cup and brought his gaze up to stare at Charles. “Your hand? ‘t was quite a burn.”

Charles looked up, raised his brows when he noticed the question was directed at him. “Ohh, it's fine.” He mumbled.

Javier put his empty cup down and sighed when yet again he wasn't able to get a conversation started. In all honesty, he was unsure about the whole situation they were in and wanted to distract himself of the uncomfortable feeling that he felt in the back of his mind. He couldn't help but feel like they betrayed Dutch, betrayed his trust.

“…You think it was wise to leave without Dutch's knowing?” He asked carefully all of a sudden, couldn't keep it to himself any more, he knows there's doubt in his eyes. Charles gave him a sharp look while John raised his brows in surprise.

“You know what Dutch was going to do to Arthur, right?” John growled, his eyes sharp as he stared at the beta.

“I know, I know… just feel like we're going behind Dutch's back..”

“We are.” John growled again. “But for now we have to, for Arthur... for our brother.”

“I'm just having doubts.” Javier sighed, hunched forwards and stretched his arms to warm his hands at the heater. “After everythin’ that happened we should stay together, stay loyal, you know?”

“We're still loyal, we're just protecting our brother.” John replied curtly, he opened the heater and threw a log in it. “When this heat thing is over, we'll go straight back, get scolded at and return to our normal chores.”

“I don't know man… Dutch will be pretty mad.” Javier glanced at the other. “You know how this thing b'tween him and Arthur… it's pretty personal…”

“I know all too well…” John grumbled. “That's why we need to protect Arthur for once.”

Javier sighed, he knew what John was talking about. Hadn't liked it either to be honest. Everyone in camp knew what happened between Dutch and Arthur, how Dutch would always want to control Arthur, how he forced himself onto the other. But no one talked about it. Dutch was their leader, their alpha, he had a right to take what he needed and wanted. And he himself didn't like questioning his leader. Dutch had saved his life, gave him a family, showed him he was a good man. A man he wanted to be loyal to. Dutch was a man who deserved loyalty.  
Blind loyalty if necessary.

But now he was dragged into this mess. How much he wanted to help his brothers, wanted to help Arthur, he didn't like the part of going against Dutch's wishes. Arthur was an omega, a strong one and a well respected gang member, he got things done when going on a job. But still just an omega. And an omega’s purpose was to please, obey and listen. Just like a beta should listen to an alpha as well. That's what he was taught by his abuelo when he was still a young boy, that's what he grew up with in his childhood. 

It's what everyone grew up with.

Arthur was what made him doubt Dutch sometimes. Doubt his leader. And he hated that.

………………………………………………………

“Where is he, Hosea!?”

“I don't know what you're talking about, Dutch.”

“Where. Is. He?” Dutch spat, his voice dangerously low.

“…You mean Arthur?” Hosea replied almost in a casual way, sitting at the table, a book still left open in his hand, like there wasn't a threatening alpha hovering over him. “He won't be here for another few days.”

“What… Did you just say?” Dutch growled, his eyes were gleaming dangerously.

“Arthur…” Hosea paused and calmly looked up into the fuming dark eyes looking down at him. “..won't be here for another few days, Dutch.”

Dutch slammed a hand on the table. “Goddammit!” For a second it looked like he was about to turn on his heel and stride away, but instead he leaned forward, his nose inches away from Hosea's as he gave the beta a long harsh glare. “…Where is he?” It sounded like a warning.

“I don't know, Dutch.” He replied simply, looking unfazed. “The boys didn't tell me.”

“Boys..?” Dutch spat, his eyes wandering over the camp. Most of the gang members had slipped into tents or out of the camp the moment he rode in.

Hosea nodded calmly. “Charles, John and Javier took him out for a ride.”

Dutch frowned deeply, kept his glare on the other man.

“I warned you, boss..” Micah piped in, his voice sly. “Bunch of rats they are…” 

“You shut your mouth, boy.” Hosea snarled at him, standing up.

Dutch glanced at Micah behind him. “He's right, Hosea..” He said slowly, turned his stare back to the beta before him. “I was a goddamn fool, I gave you my trust and… and you used it against me.”

“Come on now, Dutch.” Hosea growled, trying to stand his ground while the two threatening alphas stood before him, looking down at him. His instincts told him to give in, but there wasn't anything he could do really. He really didn't know where the men had taken Arthur. Not that he was planning on giving in soon.

“You know how you get when Arthur gets in heat..” He said slowly. “You can't control yourself, Dutch.”

“And why should he, old man?” Micah drawled, stepping forwards, his eyes holding a hint of amusement. “It's his right to take what belongs to him.”

“As long as they aren't bonded, Arthur belongs to no one.” Hosea snapped, turned a glare on Micah. 

Micah let out a mocking laugh. “Bonded or not, it's the boss's right as an alpha… to take.. what he wantss.” He drawled, his eyes gleaming.

Dutch stared at the both of them, a deep frown on his face. “Micah…” He growled. “Get on your horse, see if there are any tracks to follow.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Micah smirked at Hosea who frowned at him in return. Micah gave him a mocking wave and turned on his heel, mounted Baylock and went off in a gentle trot. 

Luckily Micah was one of the worst trackers in camp.

Dutch turned his glare back on the beta before him. “Now Hosea..” He snarled and ran a hand through his curly black hair. “I won't. Forget this..” He slowly poked a finger in the other man's chest.

“See reason, Dutch. Arthur is injured, the bastards tore him apart.” Hosea frowned and slapped Dutch's hand away from him. “They raped him, goddammit!”

“It's his own fault, he should've stayed here.” Dutch snapped. “Stayed here with his goddamn family!” With that said, he turned away and strode off to his tent.

Hosea let out a long sigh, watched the other man go. From the corner of his eye, he saw miss Grimshaw slowly walking over to him.

“That went well…” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“Thanks for helping me out..” Hosea grumbled and slumped back down on his chair at the table, fumbling with the pages of his book.

She chuckled in response. “You think mister Bell will find them?”

“Probably not, he's one of the worst trackers I've ever met in my life..” He replied dryly.

She hummed, kept her eyes focused on Dutch's tent. “…You think we made a mistake?” She asked carefully, her voice low, for once she looked insecure, her normal bravado gone as she eyed Hosea.

“Of course not.” Hosea grumbled. “This has been going on for far too long..” There was a hint of regret in his voice.

“It's not over though.” She sighed and straightened her skirt with her hands. “When Arthur gets back again..” 

“I know, I know. But at least he won't be in heat.” He replied. “Dutch will be a lot easier to deal with.”

“Maybe…” She frowned and sat down in the chair opposite of him. “You know how personal this thing is between the two of them.”

Hosea sighed and scrubbed his hand across his face, his eyes weary and full of regret. “I should've interfered long ago.. when it wasn't this personal yet.” He said as he absentmindedly flicked the pages of his book with his fingers. “I thought it would pass… I was naïve.”

Miss Grimshaw frowned and took Hosea's hand. “You tried to stop him more than once, you did your best.” She gave him a comforting smile.

Hosea glanced at her, hadn't seen this side of her that much. He sighed yet again and slipped his hand out of her soft grip as he stood up.

“Well I guess I didn't try hard enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm still continuing this. Had to sort some things out in my head.  
Still not happy though.


	5. Chapter 5

A day had passed and Javier's doubt had grown significantly.

Arthur's heat had worsened, left him almost delirious. 

Whenever they came too close to him, he would growl at them like an anxious cornered animal. None of them had seen Arthur like this. He'd never was this far out of it before. Dutch would always take his pain away before he even got this far. But normally Arthur would've already fled from camp, be somewhere by himself, ride the heat out.

It wasn't nice to see the normally strong man in such a state. He was in pain, It looked like he was being tortured. And they were the cause of it. If Dutch was here, Arthur would be relieved from his pain in an instant. But now they couldn't do much more than watch. Of course Arthur was injured, but surely he would feel better without his heat messing him up.

They hadn't been able to treat Arthur's wounds either. Couldn't get him to eat, couldn't get him to drink. Nothing. 

Most of the time Arthur was writhing in pain, his breathing raspy and labored as he lay sweating and shivering in his bed. 

Javier glanced around the small cabin, sitting at the heater, hands held out to the fire to warm his limbs. It was early in the morning and it was his turn to keep watch, the others were sleeping. He had just made a small walk outside, around the cabin, inspecting if everything wasn't out of the ordinary. Everything seemed calm.

He fumbled with the rifle in his hands, felt a bit restless. Arthur's scent wasn't helping much. He wasn't affected by it like an alpha would, but still it was overwhelming, especially in such a small and narrow space. He didn't know how John was able to deal with it. Though he noticed the alpha would slip out of the cabin on multiple occasions, take a breather perhaps.

Everything just didn't feel right, this whole plan didn't feel right. Going against Dutch didn't feel right. What was he doing here? Maybe he should just go back to camp, get Dutch and get this whole mess sorted out. It was a plan that sounded more and more appealing by the second.  
This whole thing was a mistake, but he could fix this.

He glanced at the sleeping forms of Charles and John. Charles was slumped against the wall in the corner of the room, a blanket draped over his shoulders. While John lay on his side on the ground next to the heater. They both seemed fast asleep. 

They weren't asleep for that long yet. He could just slip out and no one would notice. It would probably take a while before one of them would wake up. 

He would be long gone.

Making up his mind, Javier stood up, glanced around the cabin one more time, carefully grabbing his belongings before slipping out of the door and into the freezing cold. He silently closed the door with a soft click and walked off the stairs. He scanned the area, from afar he could see dark clouds gathering. Seemed like a storm was coming.

He stepped around the cabin where they had hitched the horses at the other side. The animals were huddled close together in between the wagon and the cabin's outer walls, a thick layer of snow covered them. It was hard to make out which one was Boaz, but when he stepped closer he saw his companion’s ears flick towards him and a soft familiar whinny greet him.

He stepped up to Boaz, wiped some of the snow off the horse's head, neck and saddle and offered him a small treat. Boaz took it eagerly and let himself get led away from the other horses. Javier threw one more glance at the small cabin. 

He was doing the right thing. Right? 

He didn't want to give it more thought and grabbed a hold of the saddle horn, placed his foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up in the saddle. Clicking his tongue, he urged the horse into a steady canter to ease the animal's cold muscles. He looked back after a while and when the cabin had vanished out of his sight, he spurred Boaz on to go faster, urged him in an all-out gallop as he steered him over narrow paths and slippery snowy hills.

Without a wagon, it wouldn't take as long to get back to camp. He could take the narrow trails and cross the Dakota river nearby Valentine.

He would get Dutch and he would get the family reunited.

He would fix this.

…………………………………………………….

He felt hands on him, multiple hands. Stroking, touching, pulling, grabbing hands. Forceful and rough. Felt the hands on his wrists, on his ankles, forcefully pulling his legs apart. A dark looming figure standing between them, staring down at him with a big toothy grin and dark lusting eyes.

Arthur woke up with a startled gasp, his eyes snapping open, his breathing raspy and labored as he glanced around himself in panic. He felt disoriented, couldn't see anyone, just the confining blankets draped around his bed. He tried to calm himself, think rationally. He was in a cabin in Grizzlies West, he was here with Charles, John and Javier. He flared his nostrils, trying to pick up their scents as he pushed the blankets aside to look through the small space. Charles was sleeping in a corner close to him, while John lay on his side on the floor next to the heater, a bedroll tucked underneath his head. Both seemed to be asleep. No sign of Javier though, no scent he could pick up either. Probably outside the cabin inspecting the area.

He slumped back in the blankets, stared up at the bed above him, his eyes still wide and unblinking and his breathing uneven, the dream still fresh on his mind. What he would give to forget everything that happened to him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw those men surrounding him, staring down at him. Felt their rough disgusting hands on him. Grabbing his hips forcefully, pushing themselves..

“Arthur… you all right?”

His breath hitcheded, quickly glanced to the voice to his left and pushed the homemade curtain aside. Charles was sitting up, staring at him with calm, but slightly concerned eyes.

“Sure…” His voice croaked.

Charles gave him a disbelieving look, he didn’t seem to buy it one bit.

“Fit as a fiddle.” Arthur tried to chuckle, but the joke felt wrong the moment it slipped out of his lips, knew in an instant the humor wouldn't reach his eyes. Charles just looked at him, frowning slightly.

“You want to talk about it?” Charles tried calmly.

“No.” His answer was short and abrupt.

“Could help, you know.”

Arthur didn't respond, glanced up at the bed above him yet again, let out a raspy sigh. “I'd rather not..”

“Alright..” Charles replied, he shifted a bit, lifting his knees. “You think you're up to me treating your wounds in this moment of clarity?”

“What d’ you mean… moment of clarity?” Arthur grunted, gave him a sideways look.

“You've been out of it for a day, weren't yourself.. You don't remember, it seems.” Charles left out the details of Arthur whimpering, trembling and hissing at them like a wounded and cornered animal. He knew it would only serve to humiliate the other further.

“Guess not..” Arthur grunted, tucked the blanket closer to his chest. He really didn't want Charles treating his wounds, especially not with the dream still fresh on his mind. The thought of spreading his legs in front of someone else, being vulnerable yet again, it made him sick to the stomach. 

Thankfully Charles caught on rather quickly. “I’d like to take a look at the wounds on your neck and hand… if you'd allow it.”

Arthur rather had no one touching him at all in his state, but knew his hand needed treatment. It felt extremely hot and was throbbing painfully. Thankfully his throat seemed to fare a bit better. He ignored the throbbing in his lower body, maybe he would try and treat it later by himself. Eventually he glanced at Charles and grunted an okay. 

Charles nodded back silently, grateful Arthur seemed to put some trust in him. He slowly stood up and bent forwards to grab the bandage kit next to his feet. The moment Charles stepped closer to the bunk bed, Arthur snarled at him out of instinct and breathed hard through his nose, it was a warning to stay the Hell away.

“..’m.. sorry..” Arthur growled between breaths. “Goddamn instincts.” He muttered, looked like he was goddamn ashamed about it as well.

“It's okay..” Charles kept his voice calm and low, stepped sideways towards the other, didn't look him in the eyes, treated him like he would a skittish horse. He didn't want to look threatening and it looked like he succeeded when Arthur allowed him to sit next to him on the bed.

Arthur felt way more nervous than the day before, even though he didn't have to spread his legs. There was a rising panic in him, gritted his teeth when he stretched out his arm for Charles to take his hand. The other man was very gentle when he treated the swollen stitched up wound on his hand, but to him it felt like the other man was stabbing knifes into him. 

The heat was messing with his body and mind. 

Charles moved on and quickly worked on the swelling around his throat, probably knew Arthur was close to exploding. When he finished, he quickly gathered his things and slipped away from the bed.

“Thanks..” Arthur mumbled, he didn't feel grateful, but felt like he should be.

Charles nodded in return. “Maybe you could uhh..” He started, but didn't look like he wanted to finish the sentence. Instead he handed him a clean towel and the greenish substance Hosea had made for him, nodded in the direction of Arthur's lower body.

Feeling his face go red, Arthur swiftly snatched the supplies out of Charles's hands and pulled the curtains close around his bed. He was grateful Charles knew him well enough to let him treat the wound by himself today, though it still felt goddamn awkward and embarrassing.

Arthur tested his limbs, lifted his good hand to reach between his legs. He still felt extremely sore everywhere, his body was aching and his skin was flushed, it felt like he was burning hot, his skin irritated. A soft moan slipped out of between his lips when his fingers brushed over his swollen and slick entrance. Hate and shame filled him almost immediately after. How his body just wanted to give in, slip a finger in, fill the emptiness. Even if it would hurt so much.

How he hated these thoughts, shoved them to the back of his mind whenever one slipped through.

He quickly grabbed the clean towel and wiped the slick away, cleaned the stitched wound as best as he possibly could. He didn't have to look at it to know it was swollen, but didn't feel like an infection had settled in either. He put the cloth away and spread the greenish substance between his cheeks, shivering at the sensation.

Arthur covered himself back up with the blanket when he heard shuffling of feet outside of his bed and some low mumbling. A grunt soon followed as it seemed Charles had woken John up.

“You know where Javier is?” He heard Charles's calm voice.

“Huh.. what? …No.” John grunted, there was a slight slur in his voice.

“He isn't here.. Boaz is gone as well.”

“You think..?”

There was a sigh. “Probably… he took all his things.”

“Shit! ...Goddamn bastard.” John seemed to be wide awake now.

Arthur's mouth thinned into a hard line. What were they talking about? 

“How long he's gone you think?” John growled, Arthur heard the scraping of a chair.

“A couple of hours, I reckon..” There was a short pause before Charles continued. “We'll have to leave soon..”

“Goddammit.. how? A blizzard just started raging outside..”

“What's goin' on..?” Arthur croaked, trying to sit up with much difficulty, he slowly swung his feet over the bed, kept his eyes on the others.

The other two exchanged glances and looked at him. “We have to leave.” Charles spoke up eventually, gave Arthur a serious look. “Javier’s gone, probably gone to get Dutch, they're coming..”

“Maybe he's out hunting..” Arthur grumbled as he scrubbed his hand across his face.

“Don’t think so… he told us he was having doubts yesterday.” Charles replied. “Took all his belongings. We have to leave.”

“We can't go out in this storm.” John protested. “Last time I went in one, I barely came out alive.”

Charles sighed and moved to place a hand on top of John's shoulder. “I know, my friend. But if we don't..” He glanced over at Arthur.

Arthur frowned, but said nothing.

"I need a goddamn smoke.." John grunted and furrowed his brows in frustration, slapping Charles's hand off of his shoulder. He seemed quite annoyed as he walked to the other side of the narrow room, took a cigarette out of his satchel and lit it. He tossed the match into the heater and took a long drag, let it fill his lungs before exhaling. "...Where will we even go to?" He spoke up eventually.

Charles brought out a folded map from his pocket, laid it out over the table and pointed a finger at the location they were in now. He moved his finger further up. “We could move up to here. Seems like there's a cabin of some sort.” He said, glanced at John when he came to stand next to him. “What do you think?”

“Cairn Lake.. never been there before.” John muttered, took another drag of his cigarette, he didn't look all too pleased to see they would have to travel further into the Grizzlies. “Fine, I guess..” He grumbled.

“It's an hours ride if we leave the wagon here and take the horses.” Charles muttered to himself, studying the road they'd have to take to get there.

“You shouldn't be doing all this for me, you know..” Arthur grunted, frowning deeply as he fumbled at the bandages around his left hand. “I ain't worth all this trouble..” He stared them right in the eyes, after a while he glanced back down at his hands when he was starting to feel uncomfortable by their returned stares.

“Oh shut up, Arthur.” John grunted, his brows furrowing. “…Let's go then.” He said and flicked the cigarette on the hardwood floor, leaving it there to burn. He moved away from the map and started packing their things.

“You think you're up to the ride?” Charles eyed Arthur, his brows furrowing in concern. 

Arthur hesitated, he wanted to nod his head, but for once he wasn't all too sure. The only thing he was sure of was that it wouldn't be a pleasant ride. The wagon ride hadn't been comfortable, riding on a horse would surely mean Hell. Instead of voicing his concerns, he just nodded his head. He didn't have much of an option anyway. 

Charles nodded and folded the map back up, stuffing it back in his pocket. He grabbed a bread roll and tossed it at Arthur. “Try and eat something, you'll need your strength for the ride.”

………..

John had packed the things needed rather quickly while Charles had gotten the horses ready and packed. Arthur worked on getting himself dressed, that surely didn't go as smoothly. His breathing was labored after he had put on his pants and boots, the small exertion draining him from his energy. He felt so goddamn weak and disappointed in himself. It was pathetic really. How the injuries and the heat had turned him into this weak mess of a man. If he could even still call himself a man that is.

“Goddammit…” He cursed when he tried to slip on his winter coat, but failed for the second time to get his injured hand through the sleeve.

He saw Charles stepping forward to help him out, Arthur snarled at him as he continued to tug at his coat.

“I can do it my goddamn self.” He snapped, felt bad almost instantly.  
Luckily Charles didn't seem all too offended by his outburst, seemed to only worsen his concern though. 

After he had finally finished dressing, he stood up upon wobbly legs, a shiver running up from his toes all the way up to his ears. He grabbed hold onto the bed for leverage. When he took his first step, he staggered as pain shot through his entire body and his legs buckled beneath him, but before he could fall, Charles had grabbed him around his shoulders. He shuddered at the sensation of being held, his body was craving for the touch so much, subconsciously pushing his hips closer to Charles's.  
While his mind was screaming in panic, felt the rough disgusting hands on him, forcing him, constraining him. He stopped moving all together, let himself fall into Charles's arms. He was losing it. All the conflicted thoughts, feelings and instincts, it was hard to figure out what he wanted and what he needed. His head was drawing a blank.

“Wowa.. Arthur.” Charles felt Arthur's body go slack in his arms, tried to get the other man back on his feet but failed. He was starting to doubt his plan to get them to Cairn Lake. Seemed impossible at the moment.  
He felt Arthur slipping in his grip.

But just when he was about to lose his hold on Arthur, John joined him and helped him lift the omega back on his feet. The other man was holding a handkerchief to his nose, deeply inhaling while he helped Charles drag Arthur to the door.

“Get on your goddamn feet, Arthur. You heavy son of a bitch.” John snapped, seemed to get Arthur out of his trance though. Arthur's breath hitched as he grabbed their shoulders with clenched fists, searched for footing, which he succeeded in after a couple of seconds.

“Shut your goddamn mouth… let go off me, Marston..” He grumbled weakly when he took a pained step, he seemed to be nervous by the proximity of an alpha. The bickering between them would've been amusing had it not been for the situation they were in right now.

“If I let go… you fall, you idiot.” John's tone was a bit less annoyed now. He held the handkerchief closer to his nose, while Charles opened the door. When they stepped outside, the cold hit them hard as the blizzard was blasting great drifts of snow across the frozen lake in front of them.

They moved to the horses as quickly as they were able to, dragging Arthur along with them. Fortunately Taima wasn't a big horse, making it less difficult to get Arthur behind Charles and onto the horse's back. Arthur looked out of it though, he seemed to be exhausted and in pain, hunched against Charles's back, his arms weakly draped around Charles's waist. John quickly mounted Old Boy and they went off.

They shielded their eyes from the harsh wind, snow blinding them as they fought their way through the blizzard, trying not to get lost.

Arthur breathed out harsh through his nose, hardly noticed himself pushing his face deeper into Charles's back and gritting his teeth. The pain. The goddamn unbearable pain that shot through his entire body with every step Taima trudged through the snow. Felt like they were tearing him apart all over again. How he wished he could just pass out as they carried on through the snow.

They had been riding for over an hour when Charles turned to him. “..You okay there?” He could barely make out Charles's voice over the harsh winds.

Arthur grunted in pain, couldn't utter much more than that.

“It won't take much longer..” Charles said, urging Taima to walk a bit faster through the deep snow and harsh winds.

“We're almost there..”

…………………………………………………….

“You said you would lead me to him, Javier.” There was annoyance in Dutch's voice as he eyed the beta next to him.

“They must've fled when they discovered I had left, Dutch…”

Dutch grimaced as he stepped inside the empty cabin. The heater in the middle of the space was still on, warming his freezing bones, all the while his senses were prickled and teased by the overwhelmingly strong remnants of Arthur's sweet and heady scent. “We went through a goddamn blizzard, son… but still there is no Arthur.” He tried to keep his voice calm, kept in the snarl that wanted to slip from his lips.

“Looks like they aren't gone for that long, Dutch..” Micah drawled as he looked down. A very small part of the floor had turned black at his feet where a burning cigarette lay forgotten. He leaned down and took the cigarette butt between his fingers, smelled it. “It's Marston's and it smells fresh.."

Dutch raised a brow. So they were close. He slowly stepped around the small space and halted at the bunk bed. Smelled like Arthur. Almost overwhelmingly so. He picked up a forgotten blanket and brought it up to his nose, deeply inhaling. It had been a while since he and Arthur had shared a bed. A couple of months.. half a year ago maybe? 

When Arthur had came in injured, reeking of other alpha, he had been worried of course, but his scent, the strong heady scent of his heat had almost hypnotized him, made him forget about all that was important and triggered his instincts. He wanted to mate with the other, wanted to put his mark on him. He longed for it, felt it in his goddamn bones. 

But it wasn't just want. He needed him. There was something inside him that needed to control Arthur, needed to dominate him. It wasn't just primal instincts. He could get every goddamn omega if he wanted to. It was so much more. It had become personal ever since Arthur first rejected him almost twenty years ago. How he longed to bond with such an unusual omega, such a strong independant one. People would respect him, would look up at him, stop doubting him and follow him if an omega like Arthur would bond with him.

But Arthur just kept pushing him away. Running away whenever he was in heat, knowing he wouldn't be able to control his instincts and deny Dutch's advances. When he somehow succeeded to share Arthur's bed though, he never was able to put his mark on him.

It maddened him. The rejection. Made him feel bitter and humiliated. His pride being stomped on and being laughed at. Saw the doubt grow in the eyes of his followers. How could he be a leader of a gang, make them follow him, if he couldn't even control a goddamn omega?

He pressed his nose deeper into the fabric of the blanket, his nostrils flaring. He could still smell them, hints of musk in the fabric’s fibers, those goddamn alphas. How dared they? How dared they take what's his, how dared they taint what's his. His instincts screamed at him to find Arthur and wipe out every foreign scent that still stuck to what belonged to him.

“You think they’ve fled to Colter?”

Dutch was snapped out of his thoughts and glanced over to Javier.

“Maybe... probably not.” He muttered, looking back down at the fabric in his hands.

“There're tracks in the snow, but we'll have to move fast, Dutch.” Bill stepped inside the small cabin, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. “…The tracks won't last long in this blizzard.”

Dutch put the blanket back down on the bed, his eyes darkening ever so slightly. 

“Let's go then.”

……………………………………………………..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad for using Javier to get Dutch back on Arthur's trail..
> 
> Why does the note of my first chapter keep on appearing every other chapter? Don't know how to fix this. Had the same problem with my other story...


	6. Chapter 6

“You call this shelter..?” 

John grunted, his eyes scanning the cabin in front of them. He halted Old Boy and slipped off the saddle, hitching the horse to a nearby tree. He trudged through the deep snow, shielding his eyes from the blizzard as he gave the building a quick once-over, his brows furrowing in disdain. The cabin had seen better times. That was an understatement.

Grabbing his gun, he pushed the door open and looked inside. 

No one here. 

He looked over his shoulder and gave Charles a quick nod, who proceeded to slip off Taima’s back and turned to Arthur to try and help the man off as well. He sat hunched over and frozen, had turned quite pale and looked to be in serious pain. Didn't look like he would get off the horse by himself anytime soon so John trudged over to them. He grunted when Arthur's scent hit him and quickly took the handkerchief out of his pocket to hold it up to his nose.

“Come on Arthur, let's get you off this horse..” He grunted and glanced at Charles next to him who nodded in return. Arthur didn't respond, just looked plain miserable.

“On three. One.. two, three..” They grunted as they lifted Arthur off Taima's back. Arthur’s breath hitched, growling in pain at the strain his body was forced through, his legs buckling beneath his weight as he fell into their arms.

“Goddammit Arthur, how can you be this heavy?” John growled as they dragged him through the snow and into the cabin. When they stepped into the small space, John took notice it was snowing inside the cabin.. But at least it provided some shelter against the harsh winds.

“Maybe we can set up a tent in here..” Charles offered when he looked up at the sky through the cabin's beams, shielding his eyes from the snow flakes that drifted down through the open roof.

“I guess…” John grunted as they sat Arthur down on the cot to the right of them.

The sky was darkening and evening started to settle in as the storm kept raging outside the cabin. They had started a fire and set up two tents around it. One for Arthur and one for the both of them. It would have to do for now.

“You think they'll come looking for us in this storm?” John sat at the fire, looking restless as he glanced over at Charles sitting next to him. Arthur was sleeping in his own tent, taking a well needed rest after the harsh ride he had to pull through to get here.

“Hopefully not..” Came Charles's short reply, keeping his eyes on the fire.

John furrowed his brows, hands held out to the fire to warm them up. 

“…Why are you doing all this, Charles?” He spoke up eventually, kept his stare on the other man. “You haven't been in this gang for that long… why you put yourself in all this trouble to help Arthur?”

“Arthur is my friend. Of course I want to help him..” Came the calm reply.

“Is he now.”

Charles raised one eyebrow and looked at John, but didn't say anything in return.

“You've taken a liking to him?”

This time Charles frowned. “..It isn't right how he's being treated in this gang.” He started, looking at the other in disdain. “I've seen Arthur working himself to the bone, denying himself sleep and food, while others lie lazing about. For Dutch, for Hosea, for you, for all of you..” He said slowly, his eyes serious, the whole atmosphere turning serious. “He's always trying to prove his worth, saying yes to every job you people throw at him, always helping someone, it's only fair he gets help in return, just for once..”

“You don't know what you're talking about… you've seen shit, Charles.” John growled.

“I’ve seen plenty..” Charles turned a cold stare at the other man. “You all take him for granted… And Dutch..”

“Boys!” 

A loud voice called out from outside, a few moments later he called out again.

“…Come out!”

They sat up straight and looked at each other, startled by the sudden familiar voice coming from outside the cabin, their hearts sank as they hopped onto their feet. Charles brought his finger up to his lips, gesturing to keep silent. 

It was Dutch.

…………………………………………..

Dutch shielded his eyes from the winds whipping drafts of snow into his face. The weather seemed to get harsher the further they got into the Grizzlies. They had been following the dissipating tracks for over an hour or so, everyone was weary, miserable and frozen to the bone. 

It was goddamn awful. Made him think for a second if all of this was worth it..

But it seemed they were getting close. From afar, he could see a plume of smoke rising along snow-capped mountains into the darkening sky. The tracks were leading them straight into that exact same direction.

The thought of Arthur being close by, it made his heart flutter. How much he longed for him. His doubts disappearing within seconds.

Clicking his tongue, he spurred the Count on. Turned to look over his shoulder at his three companions who were trailing behind him.

“We're close, boys.” He looked at their miserable faces, put on a strong façade himself.

“Now.. when we get there." He paused and looked each of them in the eyes. "I want you three.. to get Charles and John. And go back to camp.” He said slowly over the noise of the harsh winds. “I'll deal with Arthur myself..”

There was a moment of silence where the three of them exchanged glances before Micah coughed and looked him in the eye. “ Sure thing, boss… but the weather..” He said slowly, for once he seemed to lack his usual confidence. For once he wasn't agreeing with Dutch.

It made Dutch feel uneasy and a tad bit angry. But he reckoned it was understandable. The weather was harsh and unforgiving after all.

“Take them to Colter then... Think for your goddamn selves for once.” He snarled. “Go back to camp when the weather settles down.”

“Alright Dutch..”

Dutch turned back to look ahead of him, his grimace vanishing as he focused on what was important at the moment. Getting his boy back.

They stepped into a clear opening, a frozen lake to be precise, surrounded by snow covered pines and a small worn down cabin in the middle of it all. He held up one hand, motioning the others to slow down. There was a big old pine tree next to the cabin and underneath, he saw two very familiar looking horses. He clicked his tongue and the Count trudged on in a slow trot as he passed by the lake in the direction of the cabin. When in front of the small building, he slipped out off the saddle and pulled his coat close around himself when a brisk wind whipped at his clothes and his curly black hair. 

He growled when he caught the smallest hint of Arthur's scent, he was surprised when from nowhere he felt relief washing over him like an intense wave. Hadn't noticed how much on edge he was before he got here.

He stepped forward through the snow when he felt his boys' presence behind him, only to halt a couple of feet away from the front of the cabin.

“Boys!” 

He yelled out, waiting a couple of seconds before continuing.

“…Come out!” 

It was an order, one said like only a real alpha could. Dominating, dark, no questions allowed.

But he was greeted with silence. Not what he had hoped for. Not what he had expected. Their disobedience was nauseating, but also admiring. He waited for half a minute, but when it stayed silent, he turned to look over his shoulder and nodded his head at Micah and the other two. They grabbed their guns and strode over to the cabin, kicking its door in and washing in like a wave. Dutch followed them and calmly stepped inside the small narrow building as well. He felt his calmness slipping away from him the moment Arthur's scent hit him, full force.  
He had no eye for the other men, didn't see how Micah smashed the butt of his gun into John's face, didn't see how Bill kneed a surrendering Charles in the stomach, he just kept on walking over to the tent near the fire in the middle of the small cabin. 

“Get out!” He snapped when he turned to look at his men, his eyes dark and dangerous, his hand clenching where it was gripping at the canvas of the tent's flaps. 

“All of you… Get. Out.”

They left silently, dragging John and Charles along with them. He turned back to the tent in front of him when he was sure his boys had left.

“..Dutch..”

Dutch groaned inwardly when hearing the somewhat vulnerable voice coming from behind the canvas, it was a rare treat to hear the other man like this. Arthur was calling out for him, in need of him.

“I'm here, son… I'll take your pain away.” He growled lowly as he pushed the tent flaps aside. Arthur's sweet scent washed over him like a warm blanket, made him hard within seconds, hadn't thought he could feel any more.. intense.. as he felt right now.

He swallowed thickly as his eyes met Arthur's. The man was huddled in between blankets, sweating profusely, his eyes narrowed and his mouth turned into a thin snarl, giving the impression of a wounded and cornered animal. 

Of an omega in heat.

“Go away...” He mumbled weakly, but Dutch saw right through him, saw how the other's eyes said otherwise. Saw the pain, the want, the raw need.

He crawled on top of him, didn't get any resistance when he pushed the blankets aside, didn't think it was possible for the scent to get even stronger. But it did.

“You don't want me to go away, son…” Dutch said slowly as he leaned down to nuzzle the gland at the juncture of Arthur's neck, inhaling deeply. He felt his mind go blurry, his vision swimming, he felt high, the scent making it hard to form any coherent thoughts at the moment. So goddamn intense, it was addictive, Arthur was addictive.

“You need me, Arthur..” He growled again, nuzzling his nose deeper into his neck as his hands wandered over the other's taut muscled chest, unbuttoning his shirt with nimble fingers. “I can ease your pain..” 

Arthur was fighting it. A struggle was going on in his mind, it was evident from his face, which was flushed and troubled. He was fighting not to give in. Dutch moved his hands lower and eased the pants off Arthur's hips and down his legs. The other wasn't resisting, seemed like he was losing the battle.

He looked down at his boy’s bare body, beaten and bruised. He would make sure that after tonight Arthur's scent would smell like him, no other alphas, just him.

Outside the blizzard was still raging on, it was freezing. But inside their small tent, the heat settled around them like a hot breath, the soupy air surrounding them and wrapping them in its stifling grip. Dutch admired the view underneath him, marveling like he would a piece of exceptional artwork, melting in his scent and warmth. He ran his hands over the other's body, marveling at the smooth skin stretched over solid muscle. His boy, naked, vulnerable, legs spread open when he settled between them. He wasn't begging, not like other omegas would. It's what he admired about Arthur. Even when completely swept away by hormones and animal instincts, he was able to keep some control. Stay strong. Like Dutch always told him to.  
It's what turned him on. He didn't want a weeping and begging mess underneath him. He wanted power and strength. 

He rubbed his cheek all over Arthur's neck and started slowly licking the sensitive skin of the his neck, his teeth raking over his gland while his hands wandered down between Arthur's legs, hooking them up over his shoulders, hearing how the other allowed a low groan to slip from his lips, which pleased Dutch. His mouth wandered over to the other's mouth, enveloping his lips in an intense kiss, his hands roaming over Arthur's skin, rubbing his scent all over the other man. When he dipped a finger between Arthur's wet cheeks, a sudden pained and choking sound came from the omega underneath him.

Frowning, Dutch stopped in his actions and let his eyes roam over the other man's body, halting at the swollen skin that was stitched together between his legs. A troubled thought came to his mind, something he had read in one of Evelyn Miller's books. 

‘I know precious little of actions. Lions, donkeys, hyenas. They all act. So is that what we are? No. We are more and less than the beasts. We are thoughts.’

He felt immediate shame. Right now he was nothing more than a beast. Purely acting. Acting on instincts. And not acting on wits, thoughts or feelings. He was more than just a beast, he was a man of intellect. 

Once again his alpha instincts had taken over, made him almost do something he would regret later on. Only now, looking down at Arthur, confronted by the wound, did he realize what he was about to do. He was losing control over himself once again. And it happened more and more often.   
The woman on the ferry in Blackwater, he tried to forget about it, but he killed her. It was the last time when he had slipped. He killed her without mercy, no sorrow, just instincts. She had went in his way when he went to grab a young boy with rosy cheeks, no more than three years old. He was planning on using the boy as a hostage, till they safely got away from the ferry. Nothing more, nothing less. But the woman.

An omega.

The mother. She went in his way, pushed him away, to try and bring her son to safety. She had acted on instincts, like any mother would do to protect her children. 

But so did he. 

He had been blinded by anger, shot a bullet straight through her head without a second thought. Pure, raw, instincts. An omega, pushing him away, ruining his plan to get his family to safety. For a second she reminded him of Arthur. The goddamn rejection, the humiliation. His pride.

“..Dutch…?”

He looked back down again at Arthur, a boy he had helped raise into a man for over twenty years.

“I…” For once Dutch was at a loss for words.

Arthur spread his legs further, wrapped his legs around Dutch's neck, pulling him closer.

“Arthur… no.. We can't do this..” The moment it slipped from his lips, he regretted it. 

“You're hurt, son..”

A frown appeared above flushed cheeks, but fortunately Arthur said nothing. Dutch didn't want to test his restraints if the man underneath him would start begging and slipped away from the other's warm body and the inviting spread out legs. He swallowed thickly and covered Arthur back up with the blankets, slipped out of the tent and staggered away to slump down in the corner of the cabin furthest away from Arthur, trying to calm down his racing heart, trying to suppress his instincts, the lust, the want and the need.

He needed to get away from here.

Standing up, he buttoned his coat, which he didn't remember unbuttoning, and went for the door, pulled his coat close up to his chin and slipped out of the cabin. The storm and the cold felt even more ruthless than before as he strode over to the Count. Pulling the reins loose, he hopped into the saddle and urged the horse into a full-out gallop in the direction of Colter, all the while couldn't help but feeling oh so very wrong for leaving his boy behind. His instincts screaming at him to turn back.

He would send John and Charles back to keep Arthur safe.

But for now he just needed to clear his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think hormones have a lot of influence on your state of mind. And well, Dutch has a lot of trouble keeping his hormones in check.


	7. Chapter 7

It was hard to see anything through the storm's harsh winds. Charles shielded his eyes from the wind, thought he saw the outlines of a familiar looking abandoned mining town ahead of them as they steered the horses down a snowy path in the direction of the small town's stables. His mind wasn't really on finding shelter though, he'd rather turn back and ride through the storm to get back to the cabin they had come from. 

He didn't want to think about what Dutch would be doing to him right now.

He glanced over at Bill and Javier, who were riding in front of him and John, Micah was trailing behind them, one of his revolvers in his hand, just itching for them to make a wrong move. When they neared the stables, Bill hopped off Brown Jack's back, pushed the doors open for them to enter. 

When they got inside, Micah sneered at them. “Get off them horses, boys.” He drawled as he flicked his hand holding the gun. 

Charles sighed, but complied as he slipped off his saddle, throwing a glance at John, who didn't look all too pleased himself. The other man was rubbing the side of his head where a dark bruise was beginning to take form on his skin thanks to Micah's doing. Charles felt the ache in his stomach from Bill kneeing him, but nothing he couldn't handle.

“Javier, you take care of them horses, if you will..” Micah drawled, wasn't much of a question, more like an order. He slipped off his own saddle and threw the reins at the other man, didn't wait for an answer, didn't care to. He stepped over to Charles and John, pointing his gun and nodding his head. “Come on now, off we go…”

They stepped out into the freezing cold again as they made their way to the main building of Colter, the one where Dutch, Hosea and Arthur had stayed before. Remarkably it still smelled like them when they entered through the door. Bill went up to the fireplace and went to work to start up a fire, getting some warmth into their freezing bones was their first priority.

“Sit down.” Micah ordered, pointing his gun at them and then to the floor.

For now, Charles and John decided to stay civil, stay calm and comply as they sat down on the old wooden floor. They had taken his and John's weapons, so there wasn't much they could do anyway. Also knew Micah wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in them, make up some kind of excuse of he ‘accidently’ killed one or the both of them. And Dutch would probably buy it as well. Or just wouldn't bother questioning him.

Micah sat down in the chair next to the fireplace and lit up a cigarette as he looked down at the both of them. He brought the cigarette to his lips, let it dangle between them, a sly smirk on his face as he toyed with the gun in his hand.

After a while he took a drag and puffed the smoke up into the air, he spoke up. “…Oh I can only imagine the fun Dutch's having right now…” He grinned at them.

“…The joys of an omega in heat..” He continued, his chuckle was low, knew what buttons to push to get a reaction out of anyone. 

“They squeeeze… every last bit of juice outta you, if you know what I mean…” He drawled as his lips curled up into a sly smirk.

Charles could hear John growl in anger next to him, probably wouldn't take long for him to burst.

“I bet he’s moanin' and beggin' as we speak..” Micah chuckled, his voice low and amused, took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke into John's face.

“If ol' Dutch didn't have an interest in him, I would've taken him myself…”

“Shut up, you son of a bitch!” John snapped as he jumped up onto his feet, his fists clenched and held up high.

“Ah ah.” Micah smirked and tutted, cocking his gun at him in warning. “Watch it, Marston..” His voice held a hint of danger in it. “Sit. Down.”

John glared at him, but eventually complied and slowly sat back down next to Charles, all the while keeping his eyes narrowed and locked onto Micah's smug face. 

“Good boy now, John..” Micah laughed.

“Shut up..” John snarled, his tone low. “I swear to God…”

“What you're gonna do, boy?” Micah chuckled. “You gonna… glare me to death?”

John snarled, but kept silent, didn't want to give the other man the satisfaction of riling him up even further.

Micah studied him, let the cigarette rest between his fingers. “…So John… Why you hang around with all them sheep, hmmm?” Micah drawled, took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes narrowing and turning smug when he glanced at Charles. “You're like me and Bill. Alphas.. we're strong, you know… Winners.” Bill kept silent, seemed he wanted to stay out of this one.  
Charles raised an eyebrow, but further ignored him, just continued to stare at the fire. It was better to stay calm, wait for the right moment to make his advances, get the Hell out of here and get back to Arthur. Seemed like Bill wasn't keeping much of an eye on them, but Micah was.

“You're no winner, you're a son of a bitch, Micah. That's what you are.” John snarled, his eyes narrowing at the other alpha.

Micah laughed loudly, stopped after a couple of seconds to turn a serious glare at him. “And like your lil' lady always says, you're a fool, John Marston...”

“You keep her out of this..” John growled, knew Micah bringing Abigail up in their conversation was meant as a threat.

“Would you two just shut up..” Bill grumbled as he threw another log on the fire and sat down in the chair opposite of Micah. “I've had quite enough of you two’s moanin'..” He grabbed a flask out of his pocket, probably containing some strong liquor, and took a big gulp before throwing it at John who caught it easily.

Micah frowned at him, but lazily leaned back in his chair as he took another drag of his cigarette.

John gratefully took a big gulp of the burning liquid as well, before handing it over to Charles who declined. 

After a while, John spoke up again. “Why you doing this, Bill?” He said.

“Doin' what? Following Dutch’s orders?” Bill grumbled as he was handed his flask back, took another big swig himself. “Why aren't you?”

“Arthur's our brother…” John growled in frustration, his voice was tight.

“And Dutch is our leader, I'm just following orders, as should you.” Bill snapped back at him.

“He is injured, those son of a bitches... they raped him. Can't you think for your goddamn self?” John clenched his fists. “He ain't fit enough to be dealing with Dutch right now.”

Bill stayed silent.

“Bunch of rats you are.” Micah piped in when he saw the doubt cross over Bill's face. “Don't listen to them, Williamson.. You're doing the right thing.”

The doubt hadn't completely vanished from Bill's face when he glanced at Micah, but he nodded anyway and brought the flask back to his lips, took a couple of gulps.

“Dutch…” Charles suddenly spoke up, his nostrils flaring, his eyes focused. “He's near…”

“What?” Micah looked somewhat dumbfounded, he stood up and threw his cigarette into the fireplace, held his head up to sniff the air around them. Of course Dutch’s scent still lingered around them, the remnants of when they had last stayed here. But there was something else, a familiar musky and heady smell growing stronger by the second. This, this smelled.. ‘fresh'. Before he could utter more out of his mouth, the cabin's door was pushed open, a strong and freezing wind drafting through the building, bringing in snow and a dark silhouette.

………………………………………

Arthur felt confused. Hot and bothered. Intensely so. He was in pain, frustrated and just oh so goddamn confused.

Dutch had left him, his alpha had left him. While he was wanting, he was needing. And in so much pain.

He crawled out of the tent and tried to pull himself up onto his feet, but failed, falling back onto his hands and knees, hissed in pain when his injured hand ached in protest and his muscles feeling weighed down. It felt like his blood was burning, boiling through his veins. Overwhelmingly so. His skin feeling clammy and overheated, his bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead. His body and mind ordered him to get back up on his feet and find Dutch, everything screamed at him to do so, told him to succumb to this want and need.

When he tried to stand up again, he somehow succeeded, swaying from right to left, his legs weak and wobbly, barely able to carry his own weight. When he took a step, his left leg protested and started screaming in pain, but he ignored it and continued on, a hand supporting himself as he leaned against the cabin's wall, making his way over to the door.

He staggered out of the cabin and almost fell into the knee-high snow. He trudged forwards through it, his feet and legs bare, wearing nothing more than his unbuttoned shirt and a big blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Placing one foot after another, the snow and freezing cold felt somewhat soothing on his burning skin. Numbed his pain.

There was a hint of a heady smell he could follow, also tracks through the snow, but he barely comprehended them. His head was running on instincts at the moment, not on intellect. He dragged his feet through the thick snow, he favored his right leg, didn't make it any easier as he limped through it. He kept on walking, hardly noticed for how long, hardly noticed it when his body started shivering from the cold, hardly noticed how frozen his toes were or how numb the rest of his body was starting to get, just continued on through the storm, his mind set on finding his alpha. He needed relief to this unbearable pain.

The storm wasn't relenting, wasn't having any of it, hadn't been for the last couple of days, or was it less than a day? He didn't know anymore, the only things he knew at the moment, was that the storm was growing stronger and the scent he was following was growing weaker.

He kept on though. He had been given a taste. A taste of relief. Relief to this unbearable pain.

He could hardly focus on anything but the overwhelming heat in his belly, the sharp spikes of pain that was spreading over his limbs. His heat seemed to be in its peak at the moment, becoming unbearable. When Dutch had stepped inside the cabin, his alpha scent flaring and overwhelming him. His heat had reacted and spiked, gotten unimaginably stronger in a matter of seconds, calling out to the other man. But now, it was unanswered to, it felt like torture, like nothing he had ever felt before. Never had his heat given him so much pain. His fingers clawed into the blanket around him, the fabric rough on his oversensitive skin as he kept on trudging through the snow, through this unrelenting blizzard.

He didn't notice when his legs gave up on him, hadn't even realized it until his head met with the freezing cold, seeing only white when he slowly blinked his eyes. The cold was numbing him, but did nothing to the searing heat that ran inside his body. He needed to get up, find relief to this pain, but when he tried to get his limbs to move, he found he couldn't anymore, his muscles unresponsive and weighed down. His mind was starting to cloud, delirium taking over as thoughts wandered, his awareness of his surroundings becoming less and less. The last thing he vaguely noticed was the sound of hooves and someone yelling before he succumbed to the freezing cold.

…………………………………………….

They spurred their horses on, yet again making their way through the harsh blizzard. Multiple feelings going through their troubled heads. Relief, surprise, confusion, but mostly worry.

When Dutch had staggered inside the cabin and ordered him and John to get back to Arthur without an explanation, they had done so, without asking. Didn't know what to make out of the situation, but didn't dare questioning it either, worried Dutch might contemplate, hesitate and eventually object. They didn't want to risk it. So they headed out onto their horses and back into the freezing storm without a word said.

They followed the trail they had left not more than an hour ago, the trail Dutch had followed minutes ago. If they rushed, they would be back with Arthur within twenty minutes or so. Charles spurred Taima on, saw John do the same in front of him. The storm seemed to get harsher, relentless winds pulling at their freezing bodies. The horses were tiring and protested whenever they urged them on, a slow trot was the best they could get out of the animals' fatigued bodies. Not that he could blame them. 

Charles leaned down and ran a comforting hand over Taima's neck, knew she was trying her hardest. He looked back up and shielded his eyes, was hard to see anything except the whirling white around them. What kept them from getting lost were the tracks that seemed harder and harder to follow after minutes passed. He tried to look ahead of John, thought he saw something moving along with the wind. Looked like a snow covered rock, a rock that lay right in the middle of their tracks, a rock that 'moved' with the wind.

“John,” He called out suddenly, his voice carrying over the winds. “Stop your horse!”

John looked over his shoulder, but complied as he halted Old Boy, his brows raised, looking somewhat surprised.

“What the Hell, Charles..”

Charles didn't wait to reply, instead he slipped off his saddle and trudged through the snow in the direction of the moving rock. When he came closer, he noticed it was a dark gray blanket covered in snow. Narrowing his brows, he crouched and took a hold of the blanket and looked under it, a pale hand appeared. His frown deepened and he lifted the blanket to reveal the rest of the body.

It was Arthur. Looking pale as a ghost, wearing nothing more than an open shirt and the gray blanket.

“Shit.” He cursed, slipped his hand out of his glove to check the other man's wrist for a pulse. It was there, but weak.

“What's wrong, Charles?” John grunted as he slipped off his saddle as well, he was freezing and just wanted to get some shelter and some warmth.

“Come here, I need help.” Charles said. “It's Arthur.”

That got John active, he grabbed Old Boy's reins and trudged towards Charles. When he stepped up next to the other man, he frowned at the sight. “How in the Hell…”

Charles glanced at him, but quickly turned his attention back towards Arthur. “Help me get him onto Taima's saddle.” He ordered, his voice calm. He didn't feel all that calm though.

“Is he even still alive?”

Charles frowned at the other man as he grabbed hold of Arthur's shoulders, didn't say anything, didn't need to as John quickly understood and took hold of Arthur's legs. They did their best to keep the blanket from falling off Arthur's body as they carried him towards Taima, both knowing it wouldn't be a good idea to get Arthur on Old Boy, didn't want to get him too close to John for too long. 

Charles let go of Arthur's shoulders, let John take over from him as he mounted Taima and shifted to her lower back, took a hold of Arthur as they both lifted him up in front of Charles and into the saddle. Arthur's head lolled forwards, his body slumping and Charles had to slip his arms around the other man's waist to keep him from falling off. He grabbed the reins and spurred Taima on, she shook her head in slight dismay, the added weight wasn't making it any easier for her. But she carried on, knew what was expected from her. She certainly deserved some extra treats after all this was over.

“He's gonna be all right?” John asked carefully as he rode up next to him, his arm up to shield his face from the harsh winds, whipping at his hair and coat instead. 

Charles looked down at the mop of dusty blond hair that lolled in time of Taima's steps. “I think he will be, but we got to warm him up fast.”

It seemed to reassure John for a bit at least as he nodded and spurred Old Boy on to walk ahead of them. Charles followed him, tried his best to keep the blanket around Arthur from blowing open and away, had seen the man wasn't wearing much underneath it. He felt Taima struggle underneath him, her hooves slipping as she walked over a steeper part through the deep snow, knew she was getting exhausted under these harsh conditions. It shouldn't be all too far though.

It was a ten minute ride till they finally saw the cabin, but it had felt more like ages. The lake in front of the small building was barely visible anymore through all the snow, but they carefully moved around it, didn't want to risk the idea of falling through the ice.

John dismounted Old Boy first, held his hands up to catch Arthur when Charles slowly let him slip off Taima's saddle. He slipped off himself and took hold of Arthur.

“Check the fire.” He said to John who nodded and quickly went inside, soon followed by Charles dragging Arthur along. Relief washed over him when they were finally out of the harsh winds and saw the fire was still going, it was growing weak though. 

He went straight to Arthur's tent and slipped them both inside, kept the flaps open to let the warmth of the fire in. He needed to get the other man warm and fast, Arthur's skin was freezing to the touch and he was shivering badly. Grabbing the forgotten pants that lay on the bedroll, he slipped them onto Arthur's legs with some difficulty, he felt relief washing over him when he didn't see any fresh blood trailing down his legs. Seemed like Dutch had somehow gotten some control over himself.

He made sure to button up Arthur's shirt and took the dark blue winter coat that had been used as a pillow and put them over the other man's shoulders. Wasn't easy putting clothes on someone else, even more so on such a big guy as Arthur. He grabbed the blanket that had been around the other's shoulders and threw it out of the tent, the snow had started to melt cause of the warmth of the fire, soaking through the fabric. 

Furrowing his brows, Charles looked over Arthur's shivering form and was remembered the other man had been walking through the snow with bare feet, quickly checked for any signs of frostbite. For now, it didn't seem so, but he would have to keep an eye out on it. He quickly covered them up. 

For now, hypothermia seemed to be the biggest of their problems.

Fortunately there were still some dry blankets lying about and his own body heat would have to help out as well. Charles laid Arthur on his side and crawled in next to him as he tugged the blankets close around them.

“Can I do something for you?” John was crouching, looking inside the tent.

“Put a kettle of water on the fire and take care of the horses, they worked hard.” Charles said as he slipped his arm around Arthur’s shivering form and pulled him close. “There are herbs in my saddle bags, take them with you when you come back. I’ll make some tea.”

John nodded and quickly went to work.

After a while he came back, the water was boiling on the fire and he carefully took the kettle off. 

“Brought the herbs you asked me to.” He said. 

Charles nodded and lifted himself and Arthur up into a sitting position, letting the other man lean against his side. “Can you give them to me?” He asked calmly as he tried to steady Arthur's shivering form. He was handed the herbs and he picked out two in particular. “Let the water cool down for a bit, then you can put these in..” He handed the herbs back to John and shifted Arthur and himself a bit closer to the fire. Seemed like Arthur was warming up a bit more, his shivering had subsided quite a bit already.

“What do you think that happened..?” John asked after a while. “Did Dutch just leave him in the cold?”

“Don’t think so.. Arthur probably followed Dutch's scent when he left.” Charles said. “…You can put the herbs in.”

John nodded, picked the two plants up and put them in the kettle to brew. 

“Dutch didn't…” Charles paused. “…take him, you know.”

“He didn't?” John looked surprised. “I guess the wonders still haven't left this world..” He mumbled, his eyebrows still raised as he grabbed a cup out of his satchel, pouring the tea in it.

Charles nudged Arthur, trying to get him to wake up while John put the cup down next to him. “Wake up, Arthur..” He said, his voice calm and gentle as he took the steaming cup in his hand. “You need to drink this, it'll warm you up..” Took a couple minutes of coaxing before eventually Arthur mumbled incoherently and cracked his eyes open. He seemed out of it, a delirious and confused look spread over his face. He tried to say something, but his speech was slurred, was hard to make out any of his words. Charles carefully handed Arthur the warm cup, helping the other man's clumsy and shivering hands bring the cup up to his lips, take a few sips before slumping back into Charles' hold on him, already fast asleep.

John stared at Arthur, his lips tight and his expression serious. “All this… it's hard you know…” He said eventually, glancing at Charles. “I'm used to Arthur being strong… I've never seen him like this before..”

“…We gotta be strong for him now.” Charles replied calmly.

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I know, I know…” He said and started rummaging through his pocket, pulling a cigarette out, using the fire to lit it. “I just never really realized how much of a hassle it is being an omega..” He brought the cigarette to his lips, took a deep drag as he looked to be in thought. “Of course Abigail is an omega, but she seems to be happy enough, seems to have accepted it at least… Arthur… he seems miserable ‘bout it, you know.”

Charles stayed silent, but gave a small nod, urging the other to continue.

“I just always admired him, you know? I still do..” John continued, let the cigarette dangle between his fingers. “I see him as my big brother, someone to look up to.” He furrowed his brows as he took another drag of his cigarette. “But I guess other people see him as nothing more than just an omega.”

“Those men are foolish.” Charles said. 

“Do you think I'm a fool, Charles?”

“I think you've been ignorant, my friend… but you're not a fool.” Charles replied.

John hummed and nodded. “Then I reckon you're the only one.” He chuckled, though the amusement didn't quite reach his eyes.

“You treat him as an equal, most of the members of the gang do. I think that's most important to Arthur.” Charles said, meeting his eyes.

“I guess.. it just don't feel right though...” John sighed. "A lot of people don't treat Arthur right, just because he's an omega. And we always allowed it. It's the first time the gang stood up against Dutch you know?"

"Thought as much.." Charles said. They sat in silence for a while, letting their thoughts wander.

Eventually John stood up and threw his cigarette into the fire. “You get some sleep, Charles. I'll take first watch.”

Charles nodded his thanks and carefully lay himself and Arthur down onto the bedroll, pulling the blankets close around them. Hadn't noticed how worn out his body was until sleep took seconds later.

…………………………………………….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been sick in over ten years, well I am now and I feel like crap. But shit, how I missed some good convalescence, so I'm gonna enjoy this since I can't do a damn thing except for sitting and sleeping. And writing hehe..


	8. Chapter 8

It had been more than three weeks ago now, since they had escaped from camp and into the freezing cold of Grizzlies West. Not like his heat had taken that long, but Charles had insisted on letting him rest up a bit before they decided on going back to camp. Probably knew all too well there never was a lot of time for convalescence if miss Grimshaw was concerned. They'd moved back to the cabin at Barrow Lagoon the moment the harsh blizzard had passed over, that was about two weeks ago now. Today they had decided to move back to Horseshoe Overlook and Arthur wasn't all too fond of the idea. 

John seemed to be in good spirits though, glad he was going back to Jack and Abigail, was riding ahead of them on Old Boy, sitting relaxed in the saddle as he led the way in a gentle trot. The temperature was comfortable compared to the freezing cold they had endured the last couple of weeks, comfortable enough to leave their jackets open and their hats off to bask their pale faces in the warm morning sun.

Arthur sat somewhat uncomfortable next to Charles on the front of the wagon, his journal spread open in his lap as he absentmindedly scribbled a pack of wolves on one of the pages. Once every five seconds he would scan his surroundings, couldn't help the uneasy feeling that crawled over his back. He had been paranoid ever since they had stepped on the wagon and followed the trail back to camp, something in the back of his head screamed at him they could get ambushed any moment now. Surely it was a well known risk of traveling, but normally he was able to keep his cool. He had always known the dangers of traveling, never thought too much of it, just kept an eye on his surroundings and acted whenever danger was on his tail. But now, he didn't feel all too sure of himself anymore. He hadn't felt quite the same ever since the incident…

He sighed and closed his journal, stuffing it back into his satchel, pulled out a cigarette instead. He lit it, cradled the flame to protect it from the gentle breeze. Taking a long drag, letting it fill his lungs, hoping it would calm his nerves down a bit. Charles cast him a look, but said nothing. 

Also didn't help he didn't have his guns on him, he didn't feel whole without them. Charles had bothered to bring his satchel with him though, which he was grateful for. Was grateful for all the things the man had done for him, John too. He didn't deserve any of it, but he was grateful.

He took another drag of his cigarette and exhaled the smoke while yet again scanning his surroundings. Saw nothing out of the ordinary, but just like before, he wasn't able to calm his nerves. Didn't particularly like it when the road led them through a dense forest alongside the Dakota river. He knew he wasn't anywhere near the location where ‘that' happened, but at the moment he would feel a whole lot better in wide open spaces. Cursed himself for being such a weak fool.

“How you feeling?” Charles spoke up and clicked his tongue, urging the horse in front of the wagon to keep up the pace. He cast Arthur a sideways glance.

Arthur grunted and flexed his left hand, the wounds seemed to be closing up just fine. His throat didn't feel that sore anymore, all his bruises had turned into a sickly yellow and greenish mess instead of the dark purple it used to be. His ankle still hurt though when he walked, but it had gotten better with the day. Rather didn't want to think about the wounds between his legs, but even those were also healing up rather well. Charles had helped getting the stitches out a week before, but it still felt quite sore and uncomfortable to sit on. But all in all, his whole body seemed to be healing up rather well. 

“Sure… fine I guess.” He grunted and took a long drag of his cigarette. “My body's healing up rather well.. I'll be up and running with you boys in no time.”

Charles furrowed his brows as he looked at him. He was silent for a short while, eventually he turned his stare back on the road ahead of them. “I mean, how are you ‘feeling', Arthur?”

Arthur glanced at him and went back to scanning his surroundings, absentmindedly fumbling with the cigarette that dangled between his fingers. He knew Charles was a sharp and witty man, couldn't hide much from him, even if he tried. He had probably picked up on Arthur's restlessness even before Arthur did himself. He grunted. “Good enough, I guess..”

Charles raised a brow at him, said nothing. Didn't need to, his eyes spoke volumes.

Arthur sighed and grunted yet again. “I don't know, Charles. Just leave it, I'll be fine.” He tried to hide the plead in his voice.

“Okay Arthur.” Charles said, kept his eyes on the road, knew when to stop pushing. “…If you want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

“ ’preciate it..” Arthur grunted. “But I'll be fine.”

They sat in silence and Arthur couldn't stop the unsettling feeling, that dark feeling of dread, pushing him down, knew he wasn't feeling anywhere near well. Quickly took another drag of his cigarette, let the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling as he kept his eyes on the horizon.

“We're almost there.” Charles spoke up after a while. “You ready for this?”

“As ready as I can ever be..” Arthur grunted as he pressed his cigarette butt into the wood at the side of the wagon. A part of him was happy to be back with the gang, his family, and a part of him wasn't. He hoped they wouldn't fuss over him, treat him different, he didn't want any of all that, he just wanted things to get back to normal. He also felt somewhat anxious to seeing Dutch again. The last time they were together had been… intense, to say the least. And although he was grateful the alpha hadn't taken him in his moment of weakness, he still felt uncomfortable seeing him again. At some point they would have to talk and he wasn't looking forward to it.

Charles nodded as he steered the horse and wagon up the hill and away from the Dakota. Arthur glanced around again, saw Taima calmly following behind them in a gentle trot. Charles had decided to give her some rest, had her saddle packed in the back of the wagon. She had worked hard the last couple of weeks and the harsh atmosphere hadn't been easy on her old bones. She wasn't the youngest of horses anymore and in the last three weeks she had developed a thick protective coat to keep her warm, which seemed to have cost her a lot of energy. 

They were nearing camp now, trees arched over the road, forming a canopy of leaves as they moved forwards, thought he saw a mahogany dappled coat appearing behind the bushes, his companion looking up from grazing when they stepped into the open clearing. He was glad Avalon seemed to be in good health, his coat shining in the morning sun as its ears were perked forwards. The last time he had seen Avalon, he was hung over the horse's shoulders as he tried to make his way back to camp after.. well after all that.

A bit further away he saw Javier walking out of the tree line, probably the one on guard duty at the moment. He looked uncomfortable and hadn't called out to them, which Arthur could somewhat understand, having heard from John what had happened between all of them, heard he was the one who had led Dutch to them. Though he couldn't really blame the man, had to appreciate his loyalty towards Dutch.

Charles pulled on the reins, halting the horse, the wagon soon after coming to a halt as well as John turned to them and slipped out of the saddle. Arthur saw the camp coming to life, heads popping out of the tents to greet them, saw Abigail running out of hers, straight up to John with a grateful smile on her face. When she reached him, she hugged him tight, let go a second later and slapped his arm, an annoyed look crossing over her face. Jack came running as well and grabbed onto John's leg, a big hand tousling his hair in response. Arthur looked on at the happy picture, felt something tighten in his chest, wondered what it would feel like to have his own family like that. Wondered if this is what Dutch wanted with him. 

A couple of times Dutch had talked about wanting a kid from him, more like demanded it. But Arthur just couldn't imagine the two of them being in a happy and healthy relationship. He loved Dutch, he loved him with all his heart, he and Hosea had saved his life, had given him a purpose in life. Dutch was his tutor, his mentor and it only felt natural following the man, but raising a kid together.. it just didn't feel right. Nor did being bonded with him, he was like a father to him. He quickly pushed the thoughts away to the back of his mind. He really didn't want to think about all this right now. Instead he turned to Charles and uncomfortably scratched the back of his head, gaining the other man's attention.

“Thank you… you know..” He awkwardly gestured with his hands. “…For everythin’.” He grunted and looked away.

“You don't have to thank me, Arthur. You would have done the same.”

Arthur sighed and nodded, didn't really know what to say and slipped off the wagon, careful not to land on his bad leg. He limped up to the horse in front of the wagon and stroked a hand through her mane. “Of course..” He grunted, but felt a small sliver of doubt when he said it. 

“Arthur,” 

A voice sounded. Arthur glanced over his shoulder, seeing Hosea coming over to him. “Good to see you looking a bit better, son.” The man had a gentle smile on his face as he clapped a comforting hand on his shoulder. Arthur visibly flinched at the touch. Hosea seemed to notice and frowned, slowly removing his hand away from him.

“Sure..” Arthur grunted, trying to hide his discomfort, his lip quirking up in an awkward smile. “You know me, need a whole lot more to get me off my feet.” He chuckled, the humor didn't quite reach his eyes though.

“Well, it's good to have you back, son..” Hosea's voice was gentle, his eyes concerned. He carefully placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder blade, walking and slowly guiding them both a bit further away from the camp, away from listening ears. He halted underneath the big old oak tree at the entrance of the camp and turned towards Arthur, looking the other in the eyes. “I know you'd rather not talk about it..” He started and sighed, his brows furrowed. “But Dutch.. he didn't tell me much when he came back… Did he..?”

“Arthur!” 

They were interrupted. 

Dutch was walking over to them. Hosea cast him a glance Arthur couldn't quite decipher. He didn't quite know what to make of it. Did however notice how his body had gone tense when the alpha neared them and clapped a strong hand on his shoulder, Dutch's fingers pressing into him in an uncomfortable way.

“Good to have you back, son.” Dutch smiled at him, there was a glint in his eyes, his charisma appealing and luring him in and not much he was able to do about it. This was nothing new to Arthur, Dutch pretending like nothing had happened between the both of them. He always did and he knew it was better to just play along.

Arthur glanced back at him, wished he had his hat to hide his face under as he caught his intense stare. “Good to be back, Dutch..” He grumbled as he played along, knew what was expected of him. Meanwhile he felt the gentle grip of Hosea’s hand loosen on his shoulder blade while Dutch's grip on him intensified.

“Come with me, we need to talk.” Dutch continued and was about to guide Arthur back into the camp.

“Now Dutch..” Hosea started, “..me and Arthur, we was just about to..” His voice wavered slightly when Dutch cast him an intense stare. But he stood his ground, staring back into Dutch's dark eyes.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably between them, didn't want them to start a fuss, wasn't worth it over someone like him. Knew the best way to stop the tension was to give Dutch what he wanted.

“We'll talk later, Hosea.” Arthur regretted saying it the moment he saw something akin to disappointment crossing over Hosea's features.

Hosea sighed and let go of him, his hand dropping. “Okay Arthur..” He spoke up eventually and allowed Dutch to guide Arthur away from him.

Dutch's smile was triumphant.

Arthur let himself be led through the camp, nodding his head in greeting as some of the camp members waved at him and welcomed him back, smiling at him, though their eyes held something a bit more heavy than he was used to. Something Arthur rather would not see, something that made him realize things had changed and his life wouldn't just return to being the same as it did before.

Dutch was leading him to his tent and from the other side of the camp, Arthur caught John's stare on them, he was frowning and seemed about to step up to them. Arthur quickly shot the younger man a sharp glare in warning, he did not want the other man to interfere and start a fuss. Thankfully, John seemed to understand and halted in his actions, but the frown never left his face.

The grip on his shoulder felt heavy as he was led inside the tent, Dutch’s scent was strong when he entered, almost overwhelmingly so. He was sat down on Dutch's cot as the other man closed the flaps of his tent. Suddenly he felt very small and confined as Dutch stood before him, his intense eyes looking down at him.

“I thought I'd be a gentleman.. and grant you a private conversation.” Dutch spoke up, breaking the silence. “You probably wanted to thank me.” He continued, his arms were crossed, looking tall and imposing.

Dominant.

“Thank you?” Arthur grunted and raised his brows, didn't quite know what he should be grateful for at the moment. 

Annoyance spread over Dutch's face and he sighed. “When you and me.. when we were in that cabin. You.. wanted me.” He was talking each syllable slow, as if he was talking to a child. “I could've taken you, but I didn't… cause of the ‘situation’ you was in.”

Arthur held his breath and frowned as he looked down at his hands, felt a hint of anger and embarrassment rising. He didn't want to look up and meet the other man's eyes, felt instincts pulling at him, wanting to submit to the other alpha. He looked up anyways, met the other man's intense gaze.

“You shouldn't have come for me, Dutch.” He said instead, watched Dutch's lips press into a thin line, his brows furrowing.

“And why shouldn't I?” His voice was tight.

Arthur looked down again and swallowed thickly. “Cause I didn't want it.”

There was a moment of silence, intense and uncomfortable, the air felt heavy on Arthur's shoulders, for a moment he forgot to breath. Took a deep breath when he saw Dutch shifting in front of him.

“Why can't you show me some goddamn gratitude for once, Arthur?” Dutch spat out, his heady scent was washing over Arthur, growing stronger by the second. “After everything.. I've done for you.”

Arthur felt the guilt before Dutch even could finish his sentence. Knew Dutch had every right to be disappointed in him, deserved for Arthur to at least show his gratitude, he knew the man deserved nothing but his complete loyalty. Without Dutch he wouldn't even be here, though he somehow had to convince himself he was even grateful for his own existence.

He grunted and looked down at his feet, shifting uncomfortably as he felt Dutch's intense stare weighing him down. “I'm sorry, Dutch.” He spoke up eventually when the tension between them was starting to get unbearable, immediately felt the tight atmosphere around them lighting up a bit more when he said it.   
“Been a though few weeks..” He grunted.

“Oh Arthur… son.” 

Arthur felt the other man's hand on his shoulder and had to stifle a shiver as the touch triggered something in the back of his mind, tried to push back the panic that soon flooded his head. Did not much for his anxiety when he felt the cot shift to his left as Dutch sat down next to him, their shoulders brushing. 

“Look son, I know things have been though for you..” Dutch slipped his hand over to Arthur's cheek and turned his face to look him in the eyes. “But you're back now, back with your family. And together… we're strong. There is.. no need to think about what happened to you… there is no purpose for it.” He continued, his eyes searching. “Just keep your eyes on the future… I need you back with me, I need you strong. You understand, right?”

Arthur nodded slowly, of course he understood. His family depended on him, Dutch depended on him. It wasn't like he wanted to think about what had happened to him. He wanted to forget about it so bad, but the last couple of weeks somehow he found he couldn't. The smallest of touches would push him into the harshest of flashbacks.

“Sure..” He grunted eventually and looked away again.

“Those things are all in the past now, son.” Dutch continued as he studied Arthur's face, his wrist running over the scent gland on the omega's neck, rubbing, scenting him.   
“You are safe now.” 

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, Dutch's scent spiking as he continued rubbing his neck.

“Camp morale is low.. and people are doubting.” Dutch said as his hand continued its way down over Arthur's back, sending shivers down his spine. “..And why shouldn't they? They're starving, Arthur.” He gave Arthur a pointed look and his hand halted at his lower back. “We need you… I need you.. to get back out there and make us some money… fill up the food supply, get our family devoted and motivated once more. Can you do that for me, son?”

Arthur felt the heavy weight in his words, knew he didn't have much of a choice.

“Of course, Dutch..” He grunted and made to stand up, a strong hand grabbed hold of his shoulder and held him down.

Dutch's dark calculating eyes looked into his own, his stare was intense. “I'm glad to have you back, son..” he said.

Arthur swallowed thickly, saw Dutch's eyes follow the movement when his Adam's apple bobbed. “Good to be back, Dutch..” He half mumbled as he felt the other man's hand slip behind his head, pulling him in closer. He closed his eyes shut and pinched his brows together when Dutch met him half way, their lips brushed and Dutch pressed their lips together firmer, deepening the kiss. The kiss was short lasting, but intense, adrenaline was pumping through his body. Arthur quickly broke away when he felt the grip on the back of his head loosen.

“So I-uhh should get back to work then.” He grunted uncomfortably, this time he was allowed to stand up, Dutch stood up along with him though, he was still holding his shoulder, preventing him from walking out of the tent. “..Get them supplies you was talking about..” Arthur uttered.

Dutch held up his hand for Arthur to wait and turned to the table behind him, grabbing a cigar out of his cigar box. Bringing it to his nose, he deeply inhaled and sniffed the aroma, taking in its deep woody tobacco smell. He looked pleased and made work of lighting it. Took a couple of puffs and turned back to Arthur again.

“Hosea and I… we are working on a new job.” He said and took another long puff of his cigar, letting the flavor roll over his tongue before he exhaled. “Hosea tried to convince me I should keep you out of this one though, but I don't think that's necessary. What do you think, Arthur?” He asked, a brow raised.

“It ain't necessary, Dutch..” Arthur gave the answer that was expected out of him.

“Perfect.. I knew I could count on you, son. I'll fill you in on the details later.”

Arthur nodded and shifted on his feet. “Alright, if that's all, I'll better be on my way.”

Dutch wanted to nod, but turned to him in an afterthought. “I'd rather not have you talking about us to anyone, Arthur. Not to Hosea, nor John.. anyone. They've meddled enough as it is.” He said, frowning, took another long puff of his cigar. “Don't talk about what happened in that cabin either, it concerns no one.” He gave Arthur a strict look.

Arthur nodded slowly. “Sure thing, Dutch..” He grunted and quickly slipped out of the tent when he saw the other man nod his head in dismissal. He took a deep breath of the fresh morning air when he limped out, saw John and Hosea sitting and talking at the table not so far away from him. They met his eyes and Hosea motioned for him to come over to them. Arthur couldn't help but sigh and dragged his tired body over to them, already feeling exhaustion kicking in after the adrenaline had ebbed out of his system.

When he arrived, John stood up, mumbled something to Hosea, cast him a quick glance and walked away. Arthur frowned and watched him go, didn't like it one bit.

“Arthur, come sit down.. you look tired.” Hosea snapped him out of his thoughts, he was pointing at the chair next to him, offered him a warm cup of coffee. Arthur nodded in gratitude, sat down and brought the cup to his lips to take a sip. He gave Hosea a weary look and saw the other man's nostrils flaring, sniffing, had probably picked up on Dutch's lingering scent on him.

“John and I talked for a bit..” Hosea continued, glancing at John’s retreating form before looking back at Arthur again. “He told me a thing or two.”

“..Oh did he now?” Arthur grunted in disdain.

Hosea ignored it and looked at him. “He told me Dutch didn't… you know..” He shifted in his seat, looking a bit uncomfortable.   
“…take you.” He said eventually. 

“I'd rather not talk about this, Hosea..”

Hosea sighed and scrubbed his hand across his face. “Of course you don't..” He said, his brows furrowing. “You know… Dutch had been giving me the apprehension he had mated with you. I don't know why though.”

Arthur looked down at the cup in his hands, didn't know what to say. Was reminded by Dutch's words a few minutes ago, was reminded he shouldn't be saying anything at all.

“Arthur..” Hosea tried to gain his attention. “Can you.. confirm this?”

“What does it even matter, Hosea?” Arthur growled at him, his fingers clenching around the cup.

“It matters because you could get pregnant, Arthur.” Hosea gave him a serious look.

“Well, I'm not.” Arthur grunted.

Hosea kept silent, studied him before sighing. “Dutch probably told you to keep your mouth shut, didn't he?”

Arthur fumbled with the ear of the cup before bringing it up to his lips, he took a small sip, staring into the black steaming beverage. “He did..” He said eventually.

“Thought as much..” Hosea sighed. “Did he say anything else?”

Arthur shrugged. “The job you and Dutch are working on, he wants me in on it.”

Brows furrowing together, Hosea let out a long deep sigh. “Of course he does.. Even after I specifically told him not to involve you.”

“I can handle it, Hosea.” Arthur grunted, took another sip of his coffee.

Hosea closed his eyes and lifted a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He kept silent for a while, seemed to be in thought. Eventually he stood up and looked at Arthur. “You take some rest, son. We'll talk later..”

Arthur watched him go, letting out a long deep sigh as well before retreating to his tent.

………………………………….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww, thank you all for wishing me well. I'm feeling a whole lot better, not puking my guts out anymore, hooray!
> 
> For the people who were wondering about John's and Jack's relationship. John doesn't deny he's the father, didn't feel right since he and Abigail are bonded and all.
> 
> Also decided to not follow most of the game's storyline, only the beginning. And I guess Molly doesn't exist or something, sorry for the people who like her ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	9. Chapter 9

The weight of his gun belt felt familiar on his hips as he sat in his saddle, following behind Dutch and the others they had gathered to tag along for the job. A cool evening breeze touched his cheeks and neck as he moved on top of Avalon, galloping over the dusty trails, the Heartlands’ wide open fields surrounding them. Normally he preferred riding at the back of the group, but now he felt restless and uneasy, a constant nagging feeling pulling at his thoughts. Felt like someone was following them. 

Following him. 

He felt like he could get swooped off his horse any moment now, felt the muscles of his neck start tensing and aching, thought he felt the feeling of a rope wrapped tightly around his throat.  
He rubbed his neck, uncomfortably glancing around and over his shoulder. 

No one there.

He sighed and rubbed his temples, he hadn't felt like himself the last couple of weeks, not ever since the incident.. 

He had a lot of difficulty sleeping and when he did, he was haunted by nightmares. During the day he was jumpy and had trouble concentrating on anything, even drawing and writing didn't help to ease his mind like it normally would. Anything small, like a friendly clap on the shoulder would trigger those awful flashbacks, which made him tremble and panic, would made him walk away and leave him gasping for breath hiding behind a tree away from the others to see. He felt awfully frustrated by all of it.

He felt the uncomfortable ache between his legs as he sat in the saddle. Grabbing hold onto the saddle horn, he lifted himself and stood in the stirrups, hoping to ease some of the pain, but instead it made the pain in his ankle more prominent which still hadn’t quite healed up just yet. He knew the job would be tough and ask a toll on his body. He was just starting to feel a bit better, but his body still wasn't anywhere near his old self, he just hoped things wouldn't turn wrong which they often did nowadays.

They had ridden along the mud-spattered storefronts of Valentine, gathering supplies, buying fancy clothes for him and Dutch and filling up their ammo supply at the gunsmith. The gunsmith had raised a brow in question when he and John had came in and bought an army's worth on ammo, but the man hadn't said anything. After all, business is business 

They hadn’t lingered too long at the small livestock town, didn't want to grab too much attention. They were with the five of them, a big enough group to draw enough attention and seem suspicious when seen together, but small enough to be stealthy when on the job. 

Dutch led them away from the dusty trail and steered them through bushes, ending up following the train tracks. 

Dutch had informed him about the plans a few days ago, hadn't gone in complete detail, but told him that Trelawney had heard talk about a lavish party, a lavish party on a train that is. High society folk, the richest of Saint Denis, all gathered up in one moving vehicle, coming their way as they speak. The job sounded good, but they knew the train would be armed to the teeth. Seemed only natural with so many important folks in such a small space. Somehow Trelawney had arranged two tickets for them and Dutch had decided he and Arthur would dress up and get on the train. The two of them would board at Emerald station and John, Javier and Micah would follow close behind on their horses, looking for a chance to get on the train themselves. They would have to jump on and find some poor unfortunate bastard, a guard most preferably, to steal the clothes from. It would be easy to hide the guards’ bodies, just dump them off the train.

They knew there was a chance of there being a big safe inside the train, they heard the train would get them further into the country and was going to a place called Applebridge. A small and modern town famous for its fields full of lush apple trees, but also for its cobblestone streets, fancy restaurants, luxurious shops and most importantly for its apple cider. Arthur had heard about how the town would organize an extravagant festival to celebrate the year's apple harvest every October. The wealthy folks inside the train would surely want to spend a large amount of their money in such a high standard town, would probably stack their gold in a safe for safekeeping.

Arthur glanced up at the horizon, it was getting dark. His heart skipped a beat at the realization of it. He hadn't gone out of camp in the dark ever since… 

He felt his chest tighten and he absentmindedly gritted his teeth.

He shook his head, willing the flashbacks to go away and the awful feeling they dragged along with them. This wasn't the time for any of his bullshit. He was on a job and Dutch depended on him. John, Javier and even that goddamn bastard Micah depended on him.

From afar he thought he saw the outlines of Emerald station looming up and Dutch held up his hand, motioning for them to slow down their horses. They followed him under some trees lining up next to the tracks and away from sight.

Dutch turned to them. 

“Now you boys.. stay here and keep out of sight. Me and Arthur.. we'll get on the train and see you there.” He said as he straightened his white bowtie, he was dressed to the nines, black top hat, white gloves, he even brought a cane with him to add to his attire. Arthur's outfit was a bit less flashy, he wore the black tux and white formal shirt Dutch had gifted him, a white bowtie and a silk light green vest to top it all off. He had applied a bit of pomade, his hair left parted and slicked to the side. He had rather kept the short stubble on his chin, but Dutch had demanded a clean shave, so he did what was expected of him.

Dutch clicked his tongue and urged the Count in a quick gallop, Arthur following close after him, leaving the other three behind them.

Soon after, they arrived at the station, there seemed to be two other guests waiting for the train's arrival. Was obvious by their flashy and expensive attire. He and Dutch quickly slipped off their saddles, made sure not to hitch their horses in the hope the animals would follow after them. He untied the brown leather travel bag from Avalon's back. It was filled with clean clothes, but they had also hidden some weapons and ammo inside it. When he lifted it, Dutch snatched it away from him, carrying it himself. Normally Arthur would do the lifting, be the workhorse. But he had a role to play now, as an omega he was expected to be too fragile to be carrying anything. He grimaced at the thought.

When they stepped up to the platform, Dutch touched the brim of his hat and nodded at the two other fine looking gentlemen, a charming smile plastered on his face.

“Good evening, gentlemen.”

The two men turned to look at them, by their smell Arthur could make out one of them was an alpha, the other man a beta. Arthur made sure to stand behind Dutch, keep the other man between him and that other alpha. He couldn't help his anxiety when he saw the other alpha look him over in curiosity.

“Evening.” The other alpha said politely, he glanced at Arthur one more time and turned back to the man beside him, continuing their conversation.

“I'm sorry to intrude you fine gentlemen..” Dutch said, putting the travel bag down and leaning on his cane, still smiling at them. “Might I be as rude to ask if you're waiting for the train to Applebridge as well?”

The other alpha turned back to them again. “We are indeed.” He said curtly, a brow raised in question as he looked them over. “So do you two, it seems.” He glanced at Arthur again.

“Yes.. Yes, we are.” Dutch said, the small frown on his face hardly noticeably, moving to stand in front of Arthur again. “I heard the party is going to be quite extravagant, also heard talk about poker… high stake poker that is. Oh how I love the suspense of a good game.”

“I've heard of it as well.” The other alpha seemed to warm up a little bit, still occasionally glancing around Dutch to look at Arthur. “I heard even Desmond Blythe himself will be attending the poker table.”

That caught his and Dutch's attention, Desmond Blythe, they had heard about the man before. The man had made a fortune in hosiery of all things, known for his love for poker and keeping some extra collateral in the nearest bank or safe when playing the game.

“That sounds promising.” Dutch said as he scrubbed his hand across his face. “Will you be joining, good sir?”

“Oh God no, but I reckon my dear friend here will.” He clapped a friendly hand on the man's shoulder next to him. The other man gave him an annoyed stare in return. “Will you fine gentlemen be joining the game?” He asked.

“I will, but of course Arthur here can't.” Dutch said as he clapped his own hand on Arthur's shoulder, squeezing. Arthur flinched at the touch.

“Ah of course not, a poker table is no fit place for an omega, not even a male one.” The other alpha said, looking around Dutch, trying to catch Arthur’s eyes. “Quite unusual really, I haven't seen a lot of male ones in my life. Where did you find him?”

Arthur furrowed his brows, his eyes narrowing, knew he would never get used to other people talking about him as if he weren't standing right in front of them. The other alpha was looking at him like he was an exotic pet or maybe an exquisite piece of jewelry. Something for Dutch to parade around with, show off with.

“I helped dear Arthur out of the gutter when he was still a young boy. Could see he was special even back then.” Dutch’s hand trailed down his arm.

The other alpha's eyes followed the movements of Dutch's hand. “So you're an item then?”

“We're not.”

Arthur spoke up, calmly looking at the other man. He felt the grip on his arm tighten, almost painfully so.

The other alpha was frowning now. “I don't think I was speaking to you, boy.” He turned to look him in the eyes, Arthur returned th stare with his own cold one. 

“You should know your place, boy..” The man spat. “If you haven't noticed… you're talking to an alpha.”

Arthur's frown deepened, felt his fingers twitch to grab the man by the cuff and throw him onto the ground. But before he could even think of doing or saying anything, Dutch had grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind him again.

“Ah, my apologies.. good sir.” Dutch was clenching his hand around his wrist now. “Arthur here is a bit spirited sometimes, it won't happen again…. I can promise you that.” He growled the last bit, his eyes narrowing when he looked at him.

The other alpha was still frowning, still looking offended. The beta next to him didn't look all too bothered though.

“You should put a leash on him.” The alpha snarled. “Or I’d recommend a corrective tap.”

Dutch chuckled, but Arthur thought he saw his brow twitch in annoyance. “I thought about it before.. but I guess I like them spirited.”

The other man huffed and turned his back to them, seemed this conversation was over. Arthur didn't think he could mourn about the loss. But Dutch turned to him and was looking close to livid. The hand around his wrist tightened and Dutch dragged him away.

“Arthur.” He hissed under his breath when he pulled them to a stop, his eyes were dark and furious, something primal was slumbering just below the surface.

“You can't… be doing this to me.”

Arthur stayed silent, he felt the need to look away, but he didn't.

“You know how these high society folks are..” He continued. “You only speak when asked to.”

“I know.. Dutch, but..”

“You are making me look like a goddamn fool!”

“I'm sorry, Dutch..”

Dutch sighed and straightened his tux, let go of Arthur's wrist to scrub a hand across his face as he paced in front of him.

“Look son, just keep your mouth shut when we're on that train.” Dutch said, stopped his pacing to turn back to look at him again. “You could ruin the job, if you don't.”

“Okay..” Arthur grunted. He wanted to protest, why take him on this job if he wasn't even allowed to search for some leads when on the train. Did Dutch only take him to show him off? As if he was some kind of prize pony. He grimaced at the thought.

“Don’t let me down, I know I can count on you, son.”

Arthur didn't respond, knew Dutch didn't like it if he had the last word.

They stood in silence, after a while Dutch sat down on one of the seats, the travel bag stood beside him on the wooden platform. Crossing his legs and lighting a cigar, he took a puff, let the flavor roll over his tongue and exhaled the smoke up into the air. They both looked up when the loud whistle of a train could be heard from afar.

“Now Arthur..” Dutch spoke up again, grabbing his attention. “Just follow my lead, okay son?”

“Sure..” He grunted and turned away from Dutch when he saw the train nearing. Yet again, there was a loud whistle, followed by the screeching of the brakes.

Dutch stood up, straightening his attire and rummaged through his pocket, taking out the two tickets. He grabbed his cane and tugged it under his armpit as he took the travel bag in his other hand, he kept the cigar between his teeth. Arthur thought he had never seen Dutch carry this much at the same time, normally that was his job.

The train glided into the platform and they stepped up to it when it came to a screeching halt. The conductor stepped out, along with some guards. Dutch handed Arthur his cigar and walked up to the conductor with a charming smile, greeting them.

“Good evening sirs, your tickets please.” The conductor said, his back straight, his voice polite. A guard stood next to him, a gun held in his hands, at least it wasn't pointed to them.

“Of course, good sir.” Dutch said as he handed him the two tickets.

The conductor studied their tickets and nodded. “Your suite is at the back of the train, sir. One of the guards will lead you there.” A guard stepped up and took the tickets from the conductor, looking them over before looking at Dutch and Arthur, his eyes landed on Arthur's and Dutch's waists, more specifically on their gun belts.

“No weapons allowed, sir.” He said, his voice strict. He looked curious though when his nostrils flared, probably picking up on Arthur's scent. Wasn't usual at all for an omega to carry guns.

Arthur glanced at Dutch, who nodded in return. He couldn't help the grumble that slipped from his lips when he took the belt off and handed it to the guard, Dutch doing the same. Without his guns, he suddenly felt a lot more vulnerable and a lot more insecure, tried to calm the rising panic. 

“Thank you kindly, if you would please follow me.” He stepped on the train and they followed him inside. Arthur had to stop for a second to take in the sight, but quickly followed after the guard who led them through what seemed like the Lounge and Bar car. The rich interior was lavishly furnished and reflected an Edwardian feel, with elegant lounges, exquisite marquetry, glistening brass and comfortable plush armchairs. At the back he saw a finely decorated bar, full of exquisite detail. 

When they walked through the carriage, Arthur could feel the stares on him. He straightened his back and raised his chin, trying to hide the limp in his step, feigning confidence, but didn't feel anywhere near confident. A shiver ran up his spine when he saw multiple alphas sitting in the carriage, most of them were looking at them.

They exited the Lounge car and stepped into what seemed like the Dining car. It was just as finely decorated and just as lavishly furnished as the carriage before this one. The tables were decorated with elegant glasses, crisp linen and beautiful fresh flowers. This carriage wasn't as crowded, but still made Arthur feel uncomfortable when a couple of posh rich folk turned to stare at them.

The further they walked through the train, the lesser the details and extravagance was. It still looked luxurious, but in a more modest way. It suited Arthur just fine. Though Dutch didn't look all too pleased.  
His frown had turned into a scowl when the guard stopped, got a key out and opened the door to his right, letting them in. The room was quite narrow and very modest, probably not the luxury Dutch had been expecting. There were two narrow beds, a window in between them and a small table underneath.

“You're room, sirs. Dinner will be served in half an hour.” The guard handed them their key. He nodded at them and was about to turn to walk away when Dutch halted him.

“This… must be a mistake, good sir.” He said slowly, putting the travel bag down while looking over the small room, looking none too pleased. He motioned Arthur to hand him his cigar back.

“What is, sir?”

“This room.. my good man.”

“Well it ain't a mistake, sir. It's what’s written on your ticket.”

Dutch huffed and his frown deepened as he took a puff of his cigar, seemed to calm him down a bit.

“If there's a bigger suite available.. you let me know.” He said eventually.

The guard nodded. “Yes sir.”

Arthur saw Dutch slip some money into the guard's hand before he left the both of them in the small room. Walking up to the window, Arthur tried to look through it. The train had started moving again, but there wasn't much to see of the Heartlands' countryside, only the darkness outside and his pale reflection that solemnly stared back at him.

“I can't believe this..” Dutch muttered as he sat down on the bed and took his hat off, running a hand through his slicked back curly hair. “This doesn't look luxurious and extravagant to me..” He muttered in disdain, his voice holding annoyance. “Even my cot back at camp is grander than this..”

“At least there's a chance for there being a safe.” He continued as he watched Arthur sit down on the bed opposite of him.

Arthur didn't respond, caught himself glancing out of the window again and yet again he was caught by his own miserable reflection. He could feel the other man's stare on him.

“Let's freshen up a bit..” Dutch spoke up again after a while as he brought the cigar to his lips. “Prepare ourselves for dinner.”

Arthur nodded. "Sure.."

………………………………………….

They stepped through the door and entered the dining carriage. This time it was packed with people, fine folks preparing themselves for a luxurious meal, chatting, laughing and drinking expensive red wine. Dutch looked to be in his element the moment they stepped in. It amazed Arthur how the man always seemed so at ease when confronted by the finer ways of life, the civilization seemed to suit him just fine, a world he always said he despised so much. A world he was fighting, cause it was a world unattainable, a world always out of reach. 

All the different scents that filled his nostrils, they hit him hard, made him feel crowded and paranoid. He felt the many eyes on him as he followed behind Dutch, he wished he had his hat on his head and his gun belt on his hips, without them, he felt vulnerable and naked to their eyes, felt like all those preying eyes saw right through him, felt like they would pounce him the moment he let his guard down. He shuddered when he had the feeling multiple hands were touching him, grabbing him, pulling, groping.. 

But no one was.

He shook his head, trying to lose the images that tried to take over and haunt his vision, tried to focus on Dutch walking in front of him, who was looking like he belonged among all these fine folks. Seemed like Dutch was looking for a prey, an unfortunate soul to charm and seemed like he had found one, or rather multiple ones, as he was leading them to a group who was sitting at the back of the carriage.

“A fine evening!” Dutch greeted the group, leaning on his cane and putting on a charming smile. “..Full of fine people.”

Arthur studied the group, tried to sniff out their scents. It was a group of five, two alphas, two betas and one omega. The elegant dark haired woman sitting at the window caught his attention first, a cigarette holder between her deft fingers, she took a drag, even when smoking she looked elegant. There was a small kind smile on her lips as she was looking up at them, her smile seemed mostly directed at him though. She was an omega, just like him, and her scent was calming, almost soothing. 

Next to her sat, what smelled like her mate, an Alpha, a female. Quite unusual just like himself, he hadn’t seen a lot of female alphas before in his lifetime. She seemed bold and gutsy, daring brown eyes and a mop of shoulder length blond hair. Next to the female alpha, sat the other alpha, he was a broad man, his dark hair swept back, clean shaven and sharp eyes, he seemed to have taken an interest in Arthur as he was staring at him. The other two betas seemed like a couple, they sat close together, the man had his arm around the woman's shoulder as he gave Dutch a merry smile.  
They all looked to be dripping in wealth.

“Are these seats taken?” Dutch asked, snapping Arthur out of his thoughts.

“Oh no they're not, please sit down, good sirs.” The merry man responded and pointed at the empty seats next to him.

“Me and Arthur here, we appreciate the hospitality.” Dutch nodded as he sat down next to the merry man. Arthur slipped into the seat next to him, kept his mouth shut, knew it was expected of him. “You see... we're quite new to this trip and we don't know a lot of people yet.”

The merry man chuckled and waved a waiter over to the table, pointing at Dutch's and Arthur's empty wine glasses before responding. “Me and my dear wife Poppy-” He gave her a fond look and she smiled back at him. “We’ve never missed a trip since we've been together, Applebridge is such a delight, I'm sure you two will find it pleasing as well.”

The waiter came over and poured Dutch his glass of red wine. When he was about to pour Arthur's glass, Dutch held his hand over it, covering it. 

“He's having water.” He said curtly, the waiter nodded in response and left. 

Arthur just kept his mouth shut.

“Arthur here can't handle his drink that well.” Dutch chuckled as he took his own glass of wine, swirled the drink and brought it up to his nose to sniff it. He raised his brows and seemed to be pleased by the rich smell.

The alpha woman who sat opposite of them laughed as she slung an arm around the woman next to her. “Same here with my sweet darling Daisy, guess it's an omega thing.” She chuckled as the woman called Daisy gave her an annoyed stare and shrugged the arm off her shoulders, took another drag of her cigarette as she shared a look with Arthur.

The waiter came back with a glass of water, put it down on the table in front of him. Arthur stared at the object in disdain, yet another thing that demonstrated the unfair dynamics between alphas and omegas. If an alpha decided he would be sleeping on the floor, he would sleep on the floor. If an alpha decided he would only be eating potatoes, he would only eat potatoes and if an alpha decided he would be drinking water instead of wine, he would drink water instead of wine. It was degrading, he couldn't help but growl at the unfairness of it all. Especially around these high society folks, the dynamics between alpha and omega seemed more extreme, somehow more unfair. 

So much for civilization.

He glanced back up and noticed the alpha who sat opposite of him, the man hadn't joined in on the conversation yet. The alpha took a long drag of his cigarette and Arthur caught his eyes for a couple of seconds, felt uncomfortable under his stare. The man seemed unaffected by Dutch's charms, didn't seem to listen to a word that came out of Dutch’s mouth.

There suddenly ran a silence over the table and expecting eyes were looking over at Arthur. He cursed himself when he realized he must have missed a question that was directed at him.

“Uhh.. sorry?” He grunted, uncomfortably shifting in his seat. “Didn't quite catch that..” He grumbled.

The merry man laughed. “Bit of a dreamer you are. I asked if you're looking forward to seeing Applebridge.” 

Arthur coughed in his hand, brought the glass of water to his lips to relief himself of the imaginary itch in his throat. “Of course..” He nodded quickly, gave them what he hoped didn't seem like an awkward smile. “I heard good things about the town.” He grunted and put the glass back down on the table.

“Oh what did you hear about Applebridge?”

Arthur drew a blank, opened his mouth and closed it again. He wasn't good at this at all, he wasn't a conman, he didn't have the imagination nor the acting skills to make it all look believable, he was the workhorse after all.

“The apples?” He said eventually.

The beta laughed and took a large gulp of his wine. “You must've heard more than just that, the town's got a lot more to offer than just those damn apples.”

Arthur swallowed thickly and felt Dutch kick his leg underneath the table.

“I heard the cider is quite good..” He said. Seemed like the right thing to say when the other man burst out in laughter, seemed like he had had a bit too much himself.

“I like you.” He smiled at Arthur. “We should drink together.. when mister O'Malley isn't looking.” He said the last part in a low voice and winked while giving Dutch a cheeky grin. Seemed like Dutch had given one of his names already and Arthur hadn't even noticed, he should be paying more attention or he could ruin the whole job.

“Very funny, mister Bailie.” Dutch clapped a hand on the merry man's shoulder and chuckled. His laugh seemed warm, but Arthur had heard it too many times before to know it wasn't anywhere near genuine.

Though he didn't know if Dutch had ever been genuine in his life before.

…………………………..

When it was finally time for dinner to get served, Arthur already felt completely drained by all the people around him, their scents, their voices, the obnoxious laughter, all cramped up in a small narrow carriage, made him feel almost claustrophobic. They'd just had the lobster bisque, which had tasted incredible, and Arthur was now staring down at his plate, a perfectly cooked pink prime rib with creamy dauphinoise potatoes and glazed carrots. Normally the sight would leave his mouth watering, but somehow he had lost his appetite.

The glasses of red wine had been flowing freely, but had now been replaced by champagne flutes. They clinked their glasses of champagne together, well all except for Arthur of course, he still had his water. The merry man, his wife and the female alpha seemed a bit tipsy, but were sober enough to keep conversation going, which Dutch had no problem to take advantage of as they were now chatting about money and investments, mister Bailie seemed quite invested in the conversation.

Arthur hadn't joined in on any of the conversations, it seemed like Dutch was in complete control of the situation, wouldn't need any help, not that Arthur would be of much help anyway. He ate his food in silence as he tried to ignore the alpha in front of him who seemed reluctant to look at anything else but him. It was extremely uncomfortable and he had to restrain himself from bashing the man's head into the table or more preferably, repeatedly stabbing a blunt knife into the sockets of his eyes.

“..Mister Cullen over here will be joining the poker table as well.” He heard mrs. Bailie say, breaking Arthur out of his murderous thoughts. He looked up at the alpha in front of him, who looked somewhat annoyed to have been forced to join in on the conversation.

“I will.” The alpha spoke up for the first time that evening, his voice sounded deep and gruff.

“How exciting!" Mister Bailie said. "Mister O'Malley just told me he will be joining as well.” 

“So I've heard, how very exciting.. ” Mister Cullen responded flatly and took a sip of his champagne, his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Arthur glanced at Dutch, saw his brows twitch in annoyance, but he was keeping his smile up. “Exciting indeed..." Dutch said slowly. "...May the best man win..” He held his glass up, his words sounding honeyed, but also challenging, his other hand slipped over Arthur's thigh.

Mister Cullen raised his glass as well and nodded, seemingly accepting the silent challenge.

“May the best man win.” Mister Cullen responded calmly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if I'm slow with giving you guys new chapters. Lots of pressure at work, cause it's crazy busy, got a little boy at home who needs a lot of attention, getting up way too early, long shifts, housekeeping, well just normal life I guess. I'm trying to write in the evenings and nights, but I'm tired u____u


	10. Chapter 10

“Come, follow me.”

He followed after her, the elegant omega. He thought her name was Daisy. He followed her through the carriage and into another one. They passed by the poker tables, which were starting to fill up with alphas and betas. Rich, white, privileged assholes. No omegas allowed. He grimaced at them, he knew he could wipe their smug arrogant looks off their faces if he would just be able to join the game.   
Daisy halted at the table at the back off the carriage and he couldn't help but notice how the table seemed to be filled up with other omegas, laughing and chatting, their scents soothing, all female, well all except for him. Seemed like this spot was reserved for omegas only, a place to dump them so the alphas could enjoy the game without distractions. Close to the table were two guards, keeping an eye on them and their surroundings, as if they were protecting valuable treasures. He didn't like them one bit. Standing there, watching them, watching him, made his skin crawl as it brought back some awful flashbacks..

He shook his head and coughed into his hand when they passed the two men, continuously glancing sideways at them. Didn't feel good to turn his back on them. 

When they came up to the table, the girls stopped their chatting and giggling, could feel their eyes on him when he stood next to Daisy, he shifted on his feet, feeling uncomfortable. He'd rather face an army of Pinkertons than these women. They were goddamn terrifying.

“Girls,” Daisy spoke up, a soft hand grabbing his lower arm, she pulled him down and motioned for him to sit in the seat next to a woman who looked quite a bit older than him, around her late sixties or something, Daisy sat down opposite of him. “This is Arthur, our newest addition for this year's trip.”

“Oh my! Would you look at him!” One of them exclaimed. 

“He looks like a mountain lion, but he smells like a pussy-cat.” An other said. They giggled.

Arthur grunted and gave them a flat look.

“Now girls, be nice.” Daisy laughed softly into her hand, tried to hide her amusement and stay polite at the same time, but failing miserably so. “We shouldn't scare him away.”

A waiter came along with a bottle of expensive looking champagne and refilled the glasses on the table, also poured him a glass. He quickly snatched it away and downed it in one go, sticking out the glass for another refill, the girls laughed at his desperation for booze. He needed a drink to take his mind off of things. Or maybe a few drinks.. He had the desire to get drunk and forget all about everything, get those haunting images out of his head. Wake up in the morning with the sort of hangover that tells him he lived a little the night before.   
There was no Dutch to keep him from drinking, so he would try his best to drink as much as humanly possible until the other man returned. He had to ease the uneasiness in his system, just couldn't shrug the uncomfortable feeling off his shoulders as his eyes kept wandering over to the two guards watching them. Even though they were betas, he just couldn't relax, knowing they were watching them, watching him.

The evening had barely begun and he was feeling exhausted, extremely so. All these people, all the smells, all the unfamiliar alphas, feeling all their eyes on him, he wasn't in his comfort zone, no not at all. The paranoia in his system was in full drive, not giving him a moment of peace. He just wanted to run to his and Dutch's small narrow room and sleep. Sleep without the nightmares haunting him.

“You're unbonded.” A voice snapped him out of his thoughts, he looked sideways. “Such a fine omega as yourself, how come, sweetheart?” The older lady who sat next to him asked, her nostrils flaring as she took his scent in, she had a thick French accent.

How come? Arthur had to think it over, how come he wasn't bonded? Was it really that unusual? Should every omega be bonded? He had never really felt the need to bond. Had seen multiple times before how an omega would lose his or her freedom when bonding with an alpha. He had had multiple offers, Dutch of course, but also other alphas he had come across in his explorings of the country. He just didn't want it, and he thought he didn't need it.  
A big reason lots of omegas bonded, was to keep them safe. Most bonded at an early age. A bonded omega was a lot less attractive to an alpha than an unbonded one. A bonded omega was off limits, it was an unwritten rule between alphas.  
But Arthur had been convinced, had been naive enough to think he could protect himself. And he had always been able to.. before that night..

He hid the shudder that wanted to run over his body and shrugged. 

“Guess no one wanted to look at this ugly mug for the rest of his life.” He chuckled, though the amusement didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Oh nonsense, plenty of alphas who wouldn't mind having you!” She responded, tutting.

“The man you came in with, mister O'Malley-” Daisy joined in. “You two looked quite close.”

Arthur took a big gulp of his champagne, didn't even like the goddamn drink. He'd rather drink a beer or something strong, like a whiskey. But hey, alcohol is alcohol and it helped him soothe his mind.

“Mister O'Malley 's like family, he raised me like a son.” Arthur grunted as he put the glass down and wiped his mouth when a trickle of the alcohol went down his chin, must've looked real sophisticated.

“Well I hope my daddy will never look at me the same way mister O'Malley was looking at you.” Daisy chuckled, the other girls started laughing as well.

“Who's teasing him now, Daisy!” An orange haired woman at the back of the table pointed an accusing finger at her.

“You’re right. I'm sorry, Arthur.” Daisy laughed, giving him an apologetic smile.

These women all seemed so carefree, didn't seem all that bothered they were living in a gilded cage, living confined, never allowed to walk around free without anyone watching their every move. He glanced over his shoulder at the two guards who were still keeping an eye on them. One of the men gave him a wink.

Arthur turned back and grimaced. “..You always got those oily turds watching your every move?” He grunted.

The older lady next to him quirked an eyebrow. “Not specifically those two, but we've always got some sort of protection, it's only natural for us omegas.” She said as a matter of fact. “These two are Mrs. Blythe’s guards.” She nodded her head at the orange haired lady at the back of the table. He took note of her, the wife of Desmond Blythe himself could spill some interesting leads. “Naturally, we all have our own. Mine is close by as well. You don't have someone to protect you, sweety?” 

“Uhhr.. no?” Arthur grunted and sipped at his champagne.

“It's a wonder you're still in one piece..” She responded. “It's a vile world… and we omegas aren't always treated as nicely..” Her eyes turned a bit darker, like she had seen and experienced things she would rather not talk about. He grimaced, knew all too well he could relate with her. He looked at the other women at the table, saw the worry and sadness hidden in their eyes, their facades cracking just for the slightest of seconds. Suddenly he realized their gilded cages were necessary to keep them all safe. If they wandered free like him, they would end up just like he had a couple of weeks ago. Or worse..

“I haven't seen nor spoken a lot of male omegas in my life,” She continued. “-but they all had that same solemn look on their faces, just like you do, just like many other omegas do.” She continued, her eyes searching for his. “Doesn't matter where you are or if you're male or female, seems like we're all treated the same.” Arthur fumbled with the glass in his hands, looking down. “-And some are treated worse..” She finished.

Arthur looked up again, met her eyes.

“Oh Madame Lafleur, there is no need to bring the mood down..” Daisy said slowly, her lips quirking up in a forced smile, she took a drag of her cigarette to hide her unease.

Madame Lafleur held Arthur's eyes for a couple more seconds, before looking away. “You are right, dear. There’s no need.” She said and took a sip of her own champagne.

Daisy gave Arthur an apologetic smile when she noticed how tense he had gotten.

Arthur gulped his drink down. Even these wealthy women, these higher class omegas, had dealt with their own fair share of injustice and pain. Didn't matter where he was or where he went, omegas were treated all the same. Treated like possessions, like alphas’ belongings, they didn't have much rights and were tolerated as long as they behaved and pleased their alphas. It was frustrating. It wasn't fair.

He looked around the table, saw how quickly the women recovered and hid the cracks behind their powdered facades, picking up conversations with each other, chatting, laughing. He could relate with them, understood them, it was better and easier to hide the pain, wear a mask and pretend to be fine. A lot easier than confronting the hurt and the pain that was haunting him in the back of his mind.

Tonight he had a lot more difficulty than ususal, dealing with the emotions that followed after being constantly plagued by those haunting memories. He had always been a person who felt everything with more intensity than he was able to express. He usually either drank through his feelings or just suffered through them. 

Arthur sat heavily on his seat as he watched the women around him talk and laugh, he felt nauseous and he wanted nothing more than to leave. Get away from this table, get off this train. The memories were too fresh on his mind at the moment, were resurfacing more vividly now and it was getting noticeably harder to push them to the back of his mind. This wasn't the right time for this, it never was though.

He stood up, the women around him stopped their chatting, looking up at him.

“What's wrong, sweetheart? You look pale.” Madame Lafleur asked in her thick French accent, her brows were knitted together in slight worry.

“I- uh…” Arthur stumbled over his words, he didn't even really know what to say, he just wanted to get away. “I... where's the restroom?”

“One of my men can show you where to go.” Mrs. Blythe spoke up as she motioned for one of the guards to come over to the table. “Phillip, be a dear and help Arthur here to the nearest restroom.” She said, brushing a ginger curl away from her face.

Panic engulfed him at once and he tried his best to steady his hands as he watched the guard coming over to him. Those guards were one of the main causes of the triggered flashbacks, he really didn't want to follow after him. His whole body and mind screamed at him to not follow after him. 

But he gritted his teeth and did so anyway.

………………………………………………

He splashed some water into his face. The walk to the restroom had felt like a daze, he could hardly recall it. But he knew the guard hadn't done anything inappropriate. The man, Philip, even seemed friendly, but right now, when feeling like this much of a mess, he didn't trust any of his observations. He stared at himself in the mirror, leaning with both of his hands on the sink. 

He looked dreadful, like a miserable sack of shit.

This job, it was too much. And he didn't even understand why it was. He had hardly done anything at all, had barely said a word to anybody. Seemed like the presence of unfamiliar people was enough to make him jump out of his britches. He growled in frustration, his fingers clenching, nails trying to dig into the porcelain of the sink.  
He heard the creak of the door swinging open. He tensed and quickly let go of the sink and pretended to wash his hands, keeping his eyes lowered and away from the mirror.

“Arthur..?”

Arthur looked up, a bit startled when hearing his name, feeling a small sliver of relief when his eyes met John's. The other was wearing a uniform. He was looking like a guard.

“John.” 

He cursed at himself when he heard the croak in his voice.

“…You all right? You passed by me and didn't even notice me.”

Arthur glanced sideways and grunted in response.

“You don't look all right..” John continued, his head cocked to the side as he met Arthur's eyes in the reflection of the mirror. 

“I'm fine. I just.. needed a breather..” His voice sounded wobbly. He pressed his fingers into his eyes, feeling overwhelmed.

He suddenly felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder, he tensed and looked to his side. John had put a hand on his shoulder. The warm, steady pressure there let Arthur focus in on himself and the whirling of his emotions in his head. He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists. John didn't say anything, just looked at him. And Arthur is grateful for his silence.

………………………………………………

Getting on the train hadn't been difficult. He had jumped on a few minutes after it departed from Emerald Station. Soon after, he found an unfortunate guard, who he subdued easily, throwing the poor guy off the train and onto the tracks. It hadn't been much of a challenge so far.

John was keeping a low profile at the moment, standing guard near one of the poker tables Dutch was playing on. Keeping an eye on his leader when he suddenly got distracted by a familiar scent coming his way. Someone brushed by him, following after another man. 

It was Arthur.

Looking void of emotions, his shoulders tense as he wobbled through the carriage behind what seemed like a personal guard, didn't have a clue whom the guard belonged to and where the guard was leading Arthur. 

Might be trouble.

He waited for a couple of seconds, not wanting to attract attention, his eyes met Dutch's, who made a barely visible nod at him in return.

Turning on his heal, John followed after Arthur, feeling dread and worry take over. Although the worry had never really left his system ever since Arthur had returned that awful early morning.

Arthur hadn't been himself ever since. And he wasn't the only one who had noticed, probably everyone had noticed how Arthur hadn't left camp the last couple of weeks, how he hadn't gone on any jobs or went out hunting, how he kept to himself more than usual, how he would tense and walk away whenever someone tried to interact with him, just how much his personality had changed. There were no sarcastic jokes, no sneers, no warm good mornings when they stood around the campfire to drink their coffee when the sun came up to cast her warm rays of light over their sleepy faces. Arthur didn't have his usual confidence in his step whenever he walked around camp, instead he kept his head low, his shoulders tense and hunched, there was still a limp, which he tried to hide, but failed to do so.

Arthur's presence was an important one in camp, he was the one who kept morale high, probably more so than Dutch and Hosea combined. Arthur probably didn't even realize it, would probably deny his presence had such a big influence on the people around him. Whenever Arthur was down or sick, it reflected on the camp. And right now the atmosphere in camp was downright miserable.

He had went to Dutch when he had heard Arthur was told by Dutch to join them on this job. He had angrily yelled at Dutch, told him Arthur needed more rest, needed more time. But Dutch had been offended by his insolence, hadn't bothered to listen to a word he had to say and turned away. When he had instead gone to reason with Arthur to give himself more time, the other man had shrugged him off, telling him he was just fine.

But he wasn't.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he saw Arthur and the guard step out of the carriage and he followed them into another one, from afar he saw Arthur enter a room to his right, the guard waiting outside. Waiting for a couple of seconds himself, he composed himself and walked up to the room, noticing the sign on the door, he entered and halted when he saw Arthur hunched over the sink, washing his hands, his face lowered.

“Arthur.”

Arthur looked up at him, seemed startled for a second before straightening his posture. If John didn't know him that well, he looked to be fine. But his eyes, something in his eyes was all.. Wrong. Before he could try and decipher the look in Arthur's eyes, the other looked away again.

“John.” He responded, his voice void of emotions.

But John noticed the croak in his voice.

“…You all right? You passed by me and didn't even notice me.”

Arthur looked sideways and grunted in response. Even his grunt sounded wrong.

“You don't look all right to me..” He pressed on, trying to catch Arthur's eyes in the reflection of the mirror.

“I'm fine. I just.. needed a breather..” John noticed the wobble in his voice, watched Arthur as he pressed his fingers into his eyes, and for a second he thought Arthur might just start crying.

But he didn't. And a shameful and weak part of him was glad he didn't.

He hesitated for a second, before walking over to Arthur, placing a careful hand on the other man's shoulder. Arthur tensed visibly and John noticed how the other's hands dropped back to his sides and clenched into fists. Arthur didn't say anything, he didn't do anything. And so John did the same. He just wanted Arthur to know he was there for him. In their silence there seemed to be an unsaid understanding between the both of them and John was glad Arthur seemed to understand he wasn't alone in all this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!  
Not much happened, also sorry 'bout that.


	11. Chapter 11

Eight hundred dollars, he had just lost more than eight hundred dollars to that awful mister Cullen. Mister Cullen who was sitting opposite of him on the same poker table, collecting the chips from that very same table, the chips that a few seconds ago still belonged to Dutch himself. Mister Cullen with that awful smug look on his face, the corner of his lips quirked upwards.

“How unfortunate, mister O'Malley. Seems like you’ve run out of luck.” Mister Cullen said calmly.

Dutch gritted his teeth, his brows narrowing almost unnoticeably. Not taking the loss well. That had been the last of his money he had taken along for this job. The camp money he had taken. But the lost money wasn't what hurt the most, what hurt most, was his pride. How could he lose to a man such as that awful mister Cullen?

He might have been naïve. He had gotten a shitty hand, no more than two pairs. Had thought he could bluff his way into a win. But it felt like mister Cullen could see right through him. Every time Dutch raised the pot, mister Cullen did the same, looking unimpressed. When it was time to reveal their cards, mister Cullen revealed his hand wasn't even that much better than Dutch's. No more than three fives. Not that it mattered, it was still enough to take the win.

Dutch tried to keep calm, tried to keep himself from showing his anger. The goddamn humiliation. 

The people around the table congratulated mister Cullen. Dutch gave a wry smile.

“Seems like you've run out of chips to play with as well, mister O'Malley.” Mister Cullen smiled that nauseating smile of his, taking a drag of his cigarette as he leaned back in his seat. 

“Seems like I’ve won..”

Dutch grimaced. ‘May the best man win.’ He recalled saying before at the dining table. Didn't mean mister Cullen was the best man now.

He forced a charming smile. “Surely we can have a rematch… mister Cullen?”

“Of course, mister O'Malley. If you have the money, that is..” Mister Cullen raised an arrogant brow.

He didn't.

“Nothing locked away in the train’s safe?” Mister Cullen continued and cocked his head, studying him as he took another drag of his cigarette.

Dutch growled, he wasn't in control of the situation and he didn't like it one bit. But at least now he knew for sure there was a safe on this train. He would make sure to get his money back.

Tenfold. 

“I didn't bring more with me..” Dutch paused for a couple of seconds. “you know how things are.. I didn't plan on spending as much on this trip.” He chuckled, though the amusement didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Then how do you wish to continue this game, mister O'Malley?”

“I have the money.” Dutch said slowly. “If I lose, you'll get it when we're at the bank in Applebridge.” He wasn't going to lose. Nor was he planning on going to Applebridge.

Mister Cullen eyed him calmly, exhaling smoke into the air. “That means I have to trust you, mister O'Malley.. And I regret to inform you that I do not trust you.”

Dutch frowned at this.

“But I have an other suggestion for you.”

…………………………………………..

“Royal flush, mister Cullen wins the game!” The dealer announced.

He couldn't believe it.. A royal flush, he hadn't even stood a chance.

He thought he would win.

But he had lost.

Again.

He tried to replace the disappointment in himself with anger, raw anger towards mister Cullen, bubbling up to the surface.

At least he hadn't lost any more of his money this time. But what he had lost now was a lot more personal.

Mister Cullen's suggestion had been insulting, but he had taken it none the less. 

Mister Cullen had suggested throwing Arthur into the game, a prize to be won. And he had accepted it. He hadn't expected he would lose again. And it wasn't like Arthur would have to stay with mister Cullen for the rest of his life. Mister Cullen hadn't been as obscene to demand such a thing. Nothing more than a date, the two of them eating breakfast tomorrow morning, sharing a civil conversation he had said. Of course it didn't sit well with Dutch, but he wasn't about to go back on his word. 

Maybe he could turn this loss into an advantage.

Maybe Arthur could pry some valuable information out of the man. He perked up at the thought. At this moment that despicable mister Cullen thought he was the winner between the two of them.

Well, he thought wrong.

………………………………………….

“What?” Arthur hissed, keeping his voice low.

They had retreated to their room for the night. Dutch had just informed Arthur about him having to go on a ‘date’ with mister Cullen, keeping his loss and the consequences of his loss out of the conversation. No need to humiliate himself any further.

“You can't be serious, Dutch.” Arthur growled, Dutch noticed his voice had a small slur and he was swaying slightly to one side. He had been drinking. 

“You just sold me.. like I’m some goddamn three dollar whore.”

“I did no such thing, Arthur.” Dutch raised a brow at the angrily spat words. “Mister Cullen only wishes to speak to you.” He paused for a couple of seconds, trying to catch Arthur's eyes. “I think.. No, I know, it will be useful. Mister Cullen seems quite fascinated by you, and you most definitely will be able to pry valuable information out of the man.” He said, his voice low. “He might be useful for us to get to the safe without even getting noticed.”

“I don't like this, Dutch..”

Dutch could hear the hesitance in Arthur's voice, he just had to push a little further until he would be able to bend Arthur into his will.

“Look.. son.” Dutch grabbed Arthur's upper arm, noticing how Arthur tried to hide the flinch that followed the contact. “I talked to Micah and he told me security is high, getting passed the guards unnoticed seems near impossible. But if we can get to the money through mister Cullen, we don't have to risk lives, not our own lives, nor the lives of innocent bystanders and guards.”

Arthur furrowed his brows, didn't say anything.

Just a little bit further.

“Just hear the man out, Arthur..” Dutch continued. “No harm in having some breakfast..” He chuckled.

Arthur glanced back at him and eventually just sighed, bending into Dutch's will as he always did. 

Surrendering.

It always made Dutch feel good, such a strong man like Arthur caving in to Dutch's every need. He really had the need to feel pleased with himself again after the humiliation he had gone through at that awful mister Cullen's hands, and Arthur was always pliable and able to make him feel like he could conquer the world.

It was goddamn addictive.

“Fine..” Arthur grunted and slumped down on his bed, running a hand through his neatly combed hair, tousling it. He pulled at his bowtie and took his shoes off, grumbling in disdain.

“Good, you're doing the right thing, son.” Dutch had made Arthur believe he had an option in this, but he had never had one from the beginning of the conversation.

Arthur sighed again, gave a small nod before taking his jacket and vest off. He just wanted to sleep.

…………………………………………

His sleep had been restless and his dreams haunting. When he woke up, he could still feel their hands on him, fingernails digging into his skin, prying dark eyes piercing into his soul. His breath hitched as he sat up, he dug his fingers into his knees, trying to distract himself from the troubling thoughts that were whirling through his head. The nightmares were getting more and more severe by the day, they made him wake up, feeling weak and more exhausted then he had been the night before. It was troubling and frustrating, knowing he was losing more and more control over his own body. And he could do nothing more than stand by and watch it take over him.

He sighed when he felt the tremors that were running through his body recede, taking back control of his breathing as shallow gasps evened out into long raspy breaths. These panic attacks were getting more and more frequent, frequent enough it was beginning to affect his health. The lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll and he knew he had lost some weight, he hadn't been able to properly feed himself, so it wasn't that much of a surprise. He couldn't help but feeling ashamed of himself. He felt like a goddamn child.

He was wondering if he would be able to hide the painful emotions underneath multiple layers of anger. Anger, an emotion he was always able to deal with rather well.

He just couldn't understand why the incident affected him this much. It wasn't the first hardship he had gone through and conquered. Although he was beginning to question if he had even conquered any of those earlier hardships at all, since old memories were beginning to resurface the last couple of weeks, haunting him alongside fresh memories. He rubbed his weary eyes and scrubbed his hand across his face.

He was weak and pathetic. 

Disgusting and repulsive.

“Morning Arthur..” 

He looked up and saw Dutch stretch his limbs and sit up as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, thankfully seeming oblivious to Arthur's inner turmoil. Or maybe he just pretended to be oblivious, either way suited Arthur just fine.

“Mornin'.” Arthur grumbled, cursing the croak in his voice. He looked at Dutch and took the offered distraction with both hands. He lifted his blanket and let his legs dangle off the side of the bed. He had left his shirt on from the night before and decided on wearing something a bit more casual than he wore last night, took out light gray pants and slipped them on, hopping off the bed and hooking the suspenders over his shoulders.

“You'll be expected in the dining car at about nine a.m.” Dutch took out his pocket watch and flipped it open. “-Which is over fifteen minutes from now.”

Arthur nodded as he put on his socks and shoes, not really used to tying shoelaces, he never needed to with his boots.

“Now me and mister Cullen talked some last night and we need to make sure our stories line up, or mister Cullen might get suspicious of us.” Dutch started as he watched Arthur dress.

“I think.. mister Cullen's already suspicious of us.” Arthur grunted.

“What makes you say that?” Dutch frowned.

Arthur shrugged. “Don't know, maybe the look in his eyes. He seemed like he didn't buy your shit, they usually do..”

“Oh son, what would you know?” Dutch chuckled. “Last time I checked, I was the experienced conman between the two of us.. Sure, mister Cullen is a bit.. more difficult to read than our usual victims, but I can see right through him. You.. and me are gonna play him like a fiddle.”

Arthur let out a deep breath, took his satin light blue vest and slipped it on. “Whatever you say, Dutch..”

“Stop being such a goddamn doubting Thomas. It's gonna work out just fine.” Dutch frowned.

“Sure thing, Dutch..” Arthur grunted as he rolled his sleeves up and tied a white tie around his neck, straightening it till it sat just right, tugging it underneath his vest. “You were gonna inform me about the story you told mister Cullen last night.”

“Yes, I was.. until you interrupted me.”

Arthur gave Dutch a stare before turning to a small mirror on the wall, noticed how he still didn't need a shave. It was one of the few advantages of being an omega, his facial and body hair didn't grow quite as fast. He took some of the pomade, running it through his hair before grabbing the comb, combing it in a neat fashion, waiting for Dutch to inform him about the details.

“So we discussed some bits before we went on the train. I'm of course Aiden O'Malley, enthusiast of arts and operas. The owner and founder of O'Malley’s Glass Company in a lively young town called Springwick, a new factory able of developing mass production of glass. A semi-automatic process used machines that are capable of producing two hundred standardized bottles per hour!” Dutch exclaimed dramatically. “And you are of course Arthur Callahan, an exotic omega. Back in the days, a young orphan boy found by me on the streets of Chuparosa, when I went on one of my explorations through the country and ended up in Mexico instead. I took you in and raised you like I would my own son..” He gave Arthur an expectant look, as if waiting for Arthur to repeat what he had just said.

“…You can't expect me to remember all of that bullshit, Dutch..” Arthur grumbled, giving Dutch a flat look through the mirror's reflection as he finished combing his hair. “Hell, ‘si’ is the only Spanish word I know.”

“Arthur, a good con is all in the details.” Dutch said in mild annoyance.

“I think a good con has to sound believable.” Arthur turned to look over his shoulder and raised a brow at him.

“Just trust me on this, Arthur… Stop the doubting.”

Arthur sighed, shook his head, but relented.

“So…” Dutch gestured with his hand, waiting.

“You're Aiden O'Malley, owner of some amazing, modern and semi-automatic glass factory in a lively town called… Springdick?”

“Springwick…” Dutch corrected him dryly.

“Springwick.” Arthur repeated him and coughed into his hand. “-Lover of arts and operas. Big explorer of Mexico, where you found your unruly son, Arthur Callahan, who mind you, can't speak a word of Spanish.”

“-You were abandoned there by your American parents, for reasons still unknown to you.” Dutch said wryly.

“So my parents were great explorers as well?” Arthur raised a brow.

“Arthur..” 

“I'm sorry, Dutch.. I say nothing more.” Arthur raised his hands in surrender.

Dutch sighed and stood up in front of him. “You should go now.” He said as he straightened the collar of Arthur's shirt while looking the other in the eyes. “-Arthur.. don't mess this up, you hear me?” His hand paused at Arthur's shoulder, brushing a speck of dust away before squeezing. “Be careful around that man.. I don't trust him.”

“It'll be fine, Dutch.”

Dutch gave him a look he couldn't quite read. He didn't bother deciphering it though and turned to leave their small room. He let out a deep sigh when he stepped out into the narrow hallway and closed the door behind him. It was nice to be out of their small room, the whole place smelled of Dutch, an overpowering mixture of pheromones and something he couldn't quite describe, just Dutch. It was nice, inhaling some air that didn't feel like every breath he took wanted to force him onto his knees and surrender. Though he really didn't look forward to this ‘date' with mister Cullen, it was nice to be on his own for the short walk over to the dining car.

He arrived just in time. When he entered the dining car, he saw Javier, standing guard at the opposite entrance he came from, they exchanged looks. Of course Dutch didn't want to leave him all by himself at mister Cullen's mercy. It gave him some comfort, knowing one of his brothers was here to watch his back. 

One of the waiters came over to him and directed him to his table. Mister Cullen wasn't there yet, which made him feel a bit relieved. He sat down heavily in his seat and looked around. There was a man sitting behind a piano at the back of the wagon, playing a beautiful melancholic tune, it soothed some of his unease, but only for a little bit. There were some other people seated in the wagon, calmly chatting, paying him no heed. He turned his head to look outside, trying to enjoy the views from the picture windows, every tree the train passed a brilliant orange, a small lake appearing between the trees, cast golden in the morning sun. His hand was itching to draw the beautiful scenery, but Dutch hadn't allowed him taking his satchel and journal along on the job, didn't look sophisticated enough according to the other man. Didn't want him to look like a ‘goddamn yokel’.

He rubbed his face. Realized he could use a cup of coffee at the moment, he was just so tired, the restless nights were taking a toll on him. But he knew the waiter wouldn't ask him if he would like something to drink. And Arthur knew the waiter wouldn't ask until an alpha was seated at his table, or rather, mister Cullen was seated at his table. Unwritten rules. An alpha would always get served first, then a beta and only then an omega. And right now he was sitting alone at a table reserved for mister Cullen, an alpha. Arthur would have to wait for his coffee until mister Cullen himself was seated in front of him and had ordered his drink. He knew he meant close to nothing when sitting alone at this table.

The moment mister Cullen stepped into the dining car, Arthur could feel his presence, could smell that musky and heady scent of his. He looked up and saw the other man walking over to him. He looked calm and collected, his expression unreadable. 

Arthur's skin crawled, the man was unsettling.

“Good morning, mister Callahan.” Mister Cullen greeted and sat down in front of him. The waiter came over to them the moment mister Cullen was seated.

“Mornin'.” Arthur grumbled, feeling his discomfort grow by the seconds. Being alone with an alpha he hardly knew didn't feel like it would help calm his nerves.

“Good morning, sirs.” The waiter came to stand next to their table and greeted them with a warm smile. “Can I offer you some coffee or a cup of tea?”

“I'll have a coffee, black. Mister Callahan will have a cup of tea.” Mister Cullen spoke up before Arthur could. 

Arthur frowned at him, but decided on keeping his mouth shut at the moment.

They sat in silence for a short while, neither of them speaking up as the waiter set their table for breakfast. Arthur knew he wasn't meant to speak up first and decided to wait for mister Cullen to take the initiative, one of those unwritten rules again. An Omega shouldn't start a conversation and an omega should only speak when asked a question. Didn't mean he always followed those unwritten rules, but for now he decided he would behave. Meanwhile mister Cullen kept his eyes locked on Arthur.

“Did mister O'Malley tell you how you've ended up here at my table?” Mister Cullen asked after the waiter had left, he leaned back in his seat, studying Arthur.

“Not really..” Arthur grunted in response. “I guess you wanted to talk to me.” He tried to ignore the other man's intense stare, his dark eyes cold and calculating. It made him feel extremely uncomfortable. His stare reminded him of a predator's, ready to feast on an unwilling prey. Reminded him of those alphas..

Mister Cullen chuckled. “Of course he didn't tell you, mister O'Malley seems like a proud man..”

“What do you mean?” Arthur grumbled, his brows narrowing into a frown.

Mister Cullen took out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Arthur, who shook his head. He took one cigarette out for himself, lighting it and taking a long drag before exhaling. “Mister O'Malley lost a great amount of money to me last night.” He said calmly, taking another drag of his cigarette.

They were interrupted by the waiter bringing their coffee and tea, mister Cullen kept his intense stare on Arthur. When the waiter left, he continued.

“He lost to me at poker-” Mister Cullen took his time explaining, paused to flick the cigarette’s ash into the ashtray and taking a sip of his coffee. “-And when he didn't have any money left to play with, he accepted throwing you into the game.”

Arthur's frown deepened.

“You're not even pretending to look surprised, mister Callahan.” Mister Cullen cocked his head.

Arthur didn't respond, to be honest he was at a loss for words. Dutch had offered him as a prize to be won, as if he was an object, not a living being.

They were thankfully interrupted by the waiter bringing their plates of food. He put the plates down, first mister Cullen and then Arthur. 

“Today our chef decided to grant us with his famous Eggs à la Benedick.” The waiter said with a snobbish voice. “-An English muffin topped with a poached egg, crisp bacon and hollandaise sauce. Bon appétit.” He nodded his head, gave a small bow and left them.

Arthur stared at his food for a couple of seconds, it looked good and it smelled good. He still felt troubled, but it was better to just hide his emotions and pretend mister Cullen hadn't told him. He put the napkin on his lap and took the utensils like Trelawney had learned him was the correct way. He took a bite out of the food and raised his brows, the food was goddamn amazing. He started munching on it like his life depended on it. He was glad the distraction the food had given him, glad mister Cullen seemed distracted by the food as well and didn't bring up the subject of Dutch again.

The gentle piano music eased some of his tenseness, the warm delicious food gave comfort to his belly while a beautiful scenery of golden trees flew passed them. If mister Cullen's company had been replaced by someone else like Hosea's, he might even have enjoyed himself for the first time in weeks.

“What happened to your hand, mister Callahan?” Mister Cullen asked after a short while, breaking the silence between them, his eyes wandered over the fresh pink scars on Arthur's hand as he took a drag of his cigarette. He had finished eating his breakfast, pushed the plate away.

Arthur looked down as well, the fork clumsily resting in his left hand, the bright pink scars a big contrast on his paler than normal skin. His hand was still sore, he wasn't really able to stretch his fingers and a part of his hand felt numb and involuntarily twitched once every while, his hand didn't respond like it used to and he was starting to doubt it would ever work proper again.

“I… cut myself when I was helping out in mister O'Malley's factory..” He made up, didn't sound all too weird when working at a glass factory.

Mister Cullen raised a brow. “Mister O'Malley told me he owns a glass factory, if I remember correctly?” Arthur grunted in response, dropped the fork to hide his hand underneath the table and away from prying eyes. He was done eating anyways, he had lost his appetite. “He doesn't mind you working such a dangerous job? Also working alongside those common folks?”

“They're people just like you and me.” Arthur grunted. “Besides, I only help out when the situation requires it..” It started to surprise him how easy the lies were slipping out of his mouth.

“Maybe.” Mister Cullen said calmly. “But as you can see, there was still a risk of you getting hurt. Mister O'Malley doesn't mind putting you at risk?” He raised a brow and brought the cup of coffee to his lips, he took a sip, his eyes still watching Arthur. “If you were my omega, I wouldn't want you having breakfast with another alpha I hardly knew. He might do something… inappropriate..” He continued, the corner of his lips quirking upwards into a smile Arthur could only define as sly.

Arthur's frown deepened, to him it sounded like a threat. He decided to ignore it for now, knowing if mister Cullen did do something ‘inappropriate’, he would do his utmost best to smash the man's face into the table, scenes of his violent demise played through his head, certainly Javier wouldn't mind helping out.

Instead he opted for something less violent. “I'm not mister O'Malley’s omega, we're not bonded.” He said slowly.

Mister Cullen hummed in response, still looking amused. “But of course.. how foolish of me…”

Arthur kept silent, tried to tuck the annoyance to the back of his mind. It wasn't the right time to let mister Cullen's words get to him, he knew mister Cullen was aiming for it. Mister Cullen was trying to plant seeds of doubt into his head, wanting him to question the relationship between himself and Dutch. That much was obvious, but why?

“Tell me, mister Callahan. What do you do in your free time, any hobbies?” Mister Cullen changed the subject and took a sip of his coffee, Arthur was glad the question didn't involve Dutch this time.

He mulled over the answers he could provide mister Cullen with, decided to settle on the truth. “I like drawing.” He grunted, finding it safer to keep his answers short.

“Ah a creative soul.” Mister Cullen said, leaning forwards and looking intrigued, he flicked the ash of his cigarette into the ashtray. “Then you most certainly find the scenery outside of this train very enjoyable as well.”

“Sure.” Arthur said, grabbing his cup of tea, the warm porcelain feeling pleasant on his fingers. He glanced outside the window, the scenery hadn't changed much, green hills rolling passed them, orange and golden trees scattered around, off in the distance he saw a flock of sheep grazing close to a small homestead. It was a serene and Idyllic picture, ready to be drawn on paper.

“Ah… I love this song..” Mister Cullen said suddenly, motioning in the direction of the piano. “Chopin, Nocturne No.20 in C sharp minor, haunting but beautiful.” He gave Arthur a meaningful look, as if he was talking about him.

Arthur listened to the song as he watched the scenery. It felt fitting to his mood. The clear and delicate melody reaching out to him, while the melancholic mood made his heart ache. Made him wonder why he was here sitting at this table, instead of out there, riding Avalon, galloping over those rolling green hills.

“Does mister O'Malley treat you well?” Mister Cullen broke him out of his thoughts, once again changing subject and once again trying to plant one of his seeds.

Arthur, a bit startled by the question, paused for a couple of second before answering. “…He treats me just fine..” He grunted.

“Then why did you hesitate?”

Arthur furrowed his brows. “Cause the question you asked is none of your business..” He growled in annoyance.

Mister Cullen raised an amused brow, didn't seem al that bothered by the insolent tone in Arthur's voice. “What did you feel when I ordered that tea for you just now?” He asked yet another question. “Were you angry? Were you upset? Did you feel like you didn't have an option? Did you accept it?”

“I…” Arthur looked down at the tea in his hands, yet again at a loss for words. Hadn't expected such a question, hadn't realized mister Cullen had tested him with the tea to get a reaction out of him at the beginning of their 'date'.

“I'm asking since I saw the way you looked when mister O'Malley said you couldn't drink last evening.” 

Felt like mister Cullen was staring straight into his soul.

“You looked angry. You looked upset. Upset you aren't allowed to make your own decisions. Upset you have no control about your own life.” 

“I wasn't…” Arthur wasn't able to say much more, ran a hand through his neatly combed hair, a few hairs sticking out when he brought his hand back to fumble at the ear of his cup.

“I can give you a better life, mister Callahan.” Mister Cullen said suddenly as he leaned forwards, his eyes boring into Arthur's.

Arthur furrowed his brows and looked down at the tea mister Cullen had ordered for him, pushed it away.

“I see.” Mister Cullen said slowly, leaning back into his seat.

Arthur's lips were pressed closed into a thin line, kept his mouth shut as he looked up again and stared hard into mister Cullen's dark eyes.

“You are loyal to that man.”

“Of course I am.” Arthur growled. 

“Mister O'Malley told me as much.” Mister Cullen said as he crushed his cigarette in the ashtray.

“Then why ask?” Arthur growled, his frown deepening.

“Dressing nice and talking pretty doesn't give me enough reason to believe mister O'Malley.” Mister Cullen said calmly. Arthur tensed, felt like there was a hidden meaning behind mister Cullen's words. Arthur could guess what it was. Did he know?

“I don't think you two belong here on this train.” 

He knew.

Arthur was beginning to feel more and more tense. “We do.” His voice was firm as he tried to convince the other man, maybe himself as well.

Mister Cullen stayed silent for a couple of seconds, just looking at him.

“Mister O'Malley told me he found you in Mexico when you were still a young boy.” He said.

“He did.” Arthur growled, couldn't help but feeling cornered.

Mister Cullen studied him for a couple of seconds. “Tienes ojos honestos, pero tu boca dices mentiras.” He said, his eyes still intensely staring into Arthur’s.

Arthur froze, knew he must've looked somewhat dumbfounded, didn't have the slightest clue what mister Cullen just said to him. “…Si?” He said slowly, trying not to look too lost.

Mister Cullen leaned back in his seat. “I see.”

“I never learned the language.” Arthur said quickly.

“I'll try again.” Mister Cullen said slowly, his gaze unwavering, time seemed to freeze as mister Cullen pushed the cup of tea in Arthur's direction again. “I can give you a better life, mister Callahan. You intrigue me, I've never been intrigued by any omega.”

Arthur looked at him, knew his façade was crumbling.

“I know a con, when I see one. How do you think I got rich myself?” There was a small smirk playing at the corner of mister Cullen's lips. 

"Just give in. Accept my offer if you know what's best for mister O'Malley.”

…………………………………………..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know shit about poker. In-game I just randomly press some buttons or let my husband play. But I learned a tiny bit for this chapter, sorry if I messed it up!
> 
> This chapter took me longer than I expected, the conversation between Arthur and mister Cullen took a bit more time. If you like the piano, I recommend you look the piano song up, I used it as inspiration when writing the conversation.
> 
> What mister Cullen said in Spanish: ‘You’ve got honest eyes, but your mouth is telling lies.’   
Thank you Google translate. <3


	12. Chapter 12

“You can't prove a thing..” Arthur growled.

Mister Cullen smiled that unnerving smile of his. 

“Maybe not.” He said calmly. “But I ‘can’ prove you two are thieves. I let my guard hide something very valuable of mine in your room last evening.” 

Arthur gave him a somewhat unbelieving look. “You what?!” He hissed, tried to compose himself within seconds, not wanting to give the other man the satisfaction of letting himself get riled up. “…They're not just gonna look through every room cause you think someone has stolen something from you.” He growled.

“And there you are wrong, mister Callahan. I have high standards in Saint Denis, if I say they have to check on some unknown mister O'Malley’s room, they'll check his room.”

Arthur furrowed his brows, tried his best to look somewhat unfazed by mister Cullen's threats. He knew he somehow had to warn Dutch and the others. Even if he accepted mister Cullen's offer, the man didn't seem like the type to keep his word. He had an air around him that didn't feel all too trustworthy.

“Why are you doing this?” He growled at mister Cullen.

“This is my territory, do you expect me to just accept another competitor?” Mister Cullen said simply. “Besides I need some entertainment. And stealing something precious from another conman is highly entertaining.” The corner of his lips quirked upwards again.

Something precious. Once again Arthur was being referred as if he was an object, not a person, not a living being.

He growled at mister Cullen, clenching his hands into fists. “You goddamn-"

“-I think it's better if we'll continue this conversation at my private quarters.” Mister Cullen cut him off and put his napkin on the plate, standing up. “Somewhere where there aren't any ears listening in.” He looked around the room, motioned with his finger for his guard to come over to them.

Arthur gritted his teeth as he watched the other man stand up. He really didn't want to follow him, really didn't want to be one on one with him, but he really didn't have much of a choice either. He slowly stood up as well and glanced at Javier, who was giving him an almost unnoticeable questioning look.

“Follow me.” Mister Cullen said and walked in the direction of Javier. Arthur hesitated for a second, almost immediately he felt the guard's rough hand on his shoulder, pushing him forward, he reluctantly followed after mister Cullen. His skin crawling when he felt the guard's presence behind him. The situation was making his heart pump wildly in his chest, he felt cornered and panicky as vile flashbacks of predatory alphas flashed before his eyes. For a second he was afraid mister Cullen knew about Javier as well, but when he passed him, he couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief. He made eye contact with Javier, gave him a warning look, just hoped Javier would go to Dutch to alert him.

They went out of the dining car, made their way through the wagons to the front of the train. Arthur glanced around, trying to think of ways to get out of the situation. If he could just get a weapon, he could shoot himself out of the situation, though he rather went with something that attracted a lot less attention. He'd rather not start a shootout when he wasn't anywhere near Dutch and the rest of the boys.

Before he knew it, mister Cullen halted, a guard was keeping watch at a door, probably the door to mister Cullen's room.

“Good morning, mister Cullen.” The guard said politely, he briefly eyed Arthur. “How was breakfast?” 

“Rather delightful.” Mister Cullen’s lips quirked upwards as the guard opened the door and let them through.

When he stepped inside, Arthur felt slightly amazed by the splendor of the room, must've been eight times the size of his and Dutch's room. The rich interior lavishly furnished, full of exquisite details. In the middle of the room there was a round cherry wood table with two comfortable plush armchairs, at the farthest corner a luxurious looking bed, must be more than three times the size of his own bed. Close to the bed there was a narrow door, probably leading to a small bathroom.

Mister Cullen walked in further. “Please do sit down, mister Callahan.” He motioned at one of the plush armchairs at the round table as he walked over to a small minibar, taking a bottle of strong looking alcohol. “Scotch?”

“Please..” Arthur grunted, Hell he needed a drink to calm his nerves.

Mister Cullen poured two glasses, handed Arthur his own and sat down in the other chair. He leaned back in his seat, swirling his glass of Scotch, once again those dark eyes, calculating, watching Arthur's every move.

Arthur gulped his drink down in one go, much to mister Cullen's amusement, frown still etched deeply on his face as he glanced down at his now empty glass, the booze bringing some comfort to his system.

“What do you even want from me..?” He asked slowly as he raised a brow in question.

“I find you interesting.” Mister Cullen said simply. “I feel a certain pull towards you. Also the added bonus of stealing from another conman, another alpha, it gives me great pleasure.” He ended the sentence with that unnerving smile of his.

Arthur tried his best to stay unfazed by the smile. “You're not answering my question..” He growled.

Mister Cullen's unnerving smile widened slightly. “That's what I like about you, you're not like any omega I’ve ever met before. You are insolent, strong, there is a certain feeling of independence when I look at you.” He said calmly. “To answer your question, I want to build a relationship, I want to have sex with you..” Arthur swallowed thickly. “-and when we're both ready, I want us to bond.”

“..You said… you could give me a better life, so far I'm not convinced.” Arthur growled. “Showing me your fancy room… showing me you got money, it ain't convincing me you'll give me a better life. So far you're just another privileged rich white asshole.”

“True.” Mister Cullen said simply, and Arthur had to give him some credit for not seeming offended. “So far I haven't shown you my best side.”

“Hell, I don't even know your first name. Cullen probably ain't even your real name.” Arthur grunted as he fumbled with the empty glass in his hands.

“Also true.” Mister Cullen nodded calmly and took a small sip of his drink.

“If you want me to build a relationship with you, how do I know I can even trust you?” Arthur growled. “How can I even trust you'll let mister O'Malley go?”

“Trust is overrated, mister Callahan.” Mister Cullen stated. “But freedom.. freedom is a beautiful thing… don't you agree?” He took another sip of his drink. “Freedom to be whoever you want to be, to do whatever you want to do. I'll grant mister O'Malley his freedom, just like I will yours.”

“It ain't freedom when I'm tied to someone else.”

“Maybe, but on your own, you'll never be free. People will always treat you like just another omega.” Mister Cullen said. “And like I said before, I have high standards in Saint Denis. People will accept you for being mister Cullen's… unruly omega, if I'm not bothered than they’re not bothered.” When he said it, it sounded so simple.

Arthur let out a sigh as he ran a hand through his neatly combed hair. “It won't change a thing.. In our gang, the people, they accept me for who I am.” He grunted. “You're offering me a different kind of cage, a gilded one.. I'd rather be with my family in some basic camp in the middle of the woods.”

“Ah, so you're in a gang?” Arthur cursed at his slip up. “So there are more of you on this train.” Mister Cullen stated, it wasn't a question.

“No.. me and mister O'Malley, we came alone.”

“The greaser…” Mister Cullen stated and Arthur furrowed his brow at the crude name. “He's one of yours, isn't he? I found it strange they accepted one of ‘his kind' as a guard. But it explains all..”

Arthur stayed silent, continued to curse himself, he had just lost an advantage over mister Cullen.

“How naïve of me.. I hadn't considered the possibility of there being more than just the two of you.” Mister Cullen sat up straight in his seat. “This changes some things..” He whistled and within a second, two guards came in. “Could you tie mister Callahan up please.”

“W-what?” Arthur's brows raised in surprise, but before he could comprehend the situation, one of the guards forced him into a headlock, while the other pulled out some rope and tied his wrists together. His body went rigid and he just froze, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He felt he was close to a panic attack when he felt their forceful hands on his body, keeping him from moving, tying his wrists together just like those alphas had done weeks ago. Just as suddenly, they let go of him and stepped back.

He let out a raspy breath, slightly hunching forwards as he tried to calm himself down.

“Keep extra guards around the wagon and be on the lookout for any unwanted visitors.” Mister Cullen said flatly, motioning a finger for the men to get out of the room and get to work. He watched them leave and turned back to Arthur, his eyes yet again calm and calculating. He probably noticed Arthur's discomfort, could probably smell his panic. They sat in silence for a while, the only noise that was heard, was Arthur's panicky and uneven breathing.

“Ah, what were we talking about again? …Freedom, wasn't it?” Mister Cullen broke the silence, looked down at Arthur's bound wrists. “I'm sorry for that, mister Callahan. But it's better to be safe than sorry when dealing with a bunch of outlaws.”

Arthur growled in response, his body still rigid and filled with panic as he desperately tried to calm himself down. His breathing was quick and uneven, he needed to calm down right now if he wanted to get out of here. He needed to form a plan and get back to Dutch. He needed to inform him, they were all in danger. He glared down at his bound wrists, knew the chances of getting out of here were getting smaller and smaller.

“It's a fragile thing.. freedom.” Mister Cullen continued, gaining Arthur's attention. “How easily it can be taken away from you..” He took a sip of his scotch, Arthur's eyes followed the movement, the glass was still half full when mister Cullen put it down. An idea popped into his head, he could use the drink as a distraction, throw the drink in the other man's face, hopefully it would be enough of a distraction so he could try and knock the man out. But first he needed to calm himself down, get some control back over his rigid limbs and his quickened breathing.

“I feel somewhat bad for doing this to you.” Mister Cullen said calmly. “But for now, I have to keep you locked up in this room until mister O'Malley is taken care of. I'm not taking any chances when dealing with a gang.”

Arthur kept silent for a couple of seconds, his eyes focused on mister Cullen's drink. He felt himself getting some control back over his body, felt his nerves calm down a bit, his breathing was still quick and uneven as he felt adrenaline taking over. “..So much for giving me my freedom.” He growled as he glanced up at mister Cullen. “You alphas are all full of shit. You're all the same.”

Mister Cullen sighed. “I can't argue with that.” He said flatly. “It isn't what I intended. I still think we could live a nice life together.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “I won't strike a deal with you if you let them kill or take mister O'Malley.”

“You care that much for that man?” Mister Cullen looked slightly incredulous. “You’re willing to bond with me, just to keep him safe, do something you don't want to do?” 

“Of course I would.” Arthur growled without hesitating, he tested the rope around his wrists almost unnoticeably, it didn't budge much.

“Do you think he would do the same for you?” Mister Cullen questioned. “To be honest, I don't think mister O'Malley is deserving of your loyalty.”

“I don't think.. he would do the same for me.” Arthur answered truthfully and mister Cullen raised his brows in mild surprise.

“And still you would throw your life away for him.” 

“I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for him.” Arthur said, his voice low and gruff. “I owe him my life.. He gave me hope when I had given up on hope.”

“I see..” Mister Cullen said slowly, took his glass in his hand, swirling the drink. “Then why aren't you two bonded? I bet mister O'Malley surely wants to.”

“I don't.” Arthur grunted as he watched mister Cullen take a sip of his drink. “He's like a father to me, he's like family.”

Mister Cullen let out an amused laugh. “Interesting dynamics your family has..”

Arthur gave him a dry look, watched him put his drink back down on the table. Mister Cullen caught his stare.

“Where are my manners, seems like you would like another drink.”

“Your manners are pretty damn awful.” Arthur grunted. “I don't think it's custom to tie your guests up..” He said dryly.

Mister Cullen let out a low chuckle as he stood up. He knew as much as to not turn his back on Arthur as he went to the minibar to grab the bottle of scotch. He sat back down in his chair and poured Arthur another drink.

Arthur nodded his thanks, his bound hands taking hold of the glass as he brought it to his lips to take a small sip. He watched mister Cullen, on the lookout for the man to momentarily lose his focus on him. It was only mere seconds, but when mister Cullen was distracted by refilling his own drink, Arthur hit almost instantly. He threw his drink, the alcohol hitting mister Cullen square in the face, probably went into his eyes as well.

Mister Cullen kicked his chair back and let out a startled yelp. “You Bitch!” He growled as he rubbed his eyes, the alcohol was probably causing irritation to them. Arthur knew he didn't have much time to lose and threw himself over the table and onto the other man. Their struggle wasn't anywhere near elegant, lots of curses and fists flying as they ended up knocking mister Cullen's chair down, both toppling onto the floor. Arthur gained the upper hand when his fist struck mister Cullen's jaw. But it wasn't easy fighting with his wrists bound, a fist hit him hard in the temple, making him see stars, but so far he was still able to keep the upper hand.

Though when Arthur saw mister Cullen pucker his lips to whistle, he instantly clasped his bound hands over the other man's mouth. So far it was a miracle the guards hadn't been alerted by their struggling, but the whistle would certainly get them into action within seconds. Clasping his hand over the other's mouth, left his stomach vulnerable, a second later he toppled onto his side when mister Cullen's fist hit him in his belly, he doubled over in pain. 

“You goddamn bitch!” Mister Cullen's eyes were dark, his voice low and dangerous. His jaw was turning a dark blue and swelling up. Arthur could smell an alarming amount of pheromones from the other man, the scent alone could be enough to force him onto his knees and surrender.

But he continued struggling.

The fabric of Arthur's vest ripped when mister Cullen roughly grabbed him and pushed him underneath him on the floor, he backhanded Arthur in a ruthless manner, hitting him multiple times and Arthur soon felt a warm trickle of blood running down his nose and going down the side of his face, his vision swimming. Mister Cullen halted and leaned down, his face inches away from Arthur's. He grabbed Arthur's bound wrists in one hand. 

“..How dare you..” Mister Cullen growled, his free hand wandering down to Arthur's hips, his grip leaving bruises. Arthur's breath caught in his throat at the touch, he struggled fervently, momentarily reliving the flashbacks of that night, weeks ago. He panicked, his mind went blank and out of instinct he bashed his forehead hard into mister Cullen's head, the hit left him seeing stars, but it succeeded in mister Cullen loosening his grip on him, his hands flying up to his nose, blood seeping through his fingers. When Arthur regained some of his senses, he didn't hesitate and smashed the side of his bound hands hard into the side of mister Cullen's neck, knocking him out.

Mister Cullen slumped on top of him, Arthur felt the warm blood from the other man's nose drip onto his face. Arthur gasped for breath, his eyes wide, completely in panic, letting the uncontrollable fear take him over for a couple of seconds, the heavy weight of mister Cullen's body on top of him made him feel close to suffocating. So many flashbacks, so much pain, emotions he couldn't deal with at the moment. It was unbearable.

He forced his body to move, his breathing uneven and raspy as he pushed mister Cullen off of him. There was no time for these moments of weakness, he had to get to Dutch, he had to warn him. He stood up on shaky legs, grabbing the table to support himself. He had taken quite some blows, mister Cullen sure knew how to pack a punch and his body felt extremely sore, his vision still swimming. The fight shouldn't have affected him this much, but his strength was waning, he knew his body had still been recovering from the incident, his energy hadn't been the same ever since.

He had to get out of here, but he first would have to untie his wrists. He knew time was ticking, mister Cullen's guards could check up on them at any moment. He glanced around, the movement dizzying him, to his right there was a small desk and he stumbled over to it, opening the drawer. He rummaged through it, pulled some papers out, but found them useless, but to his relief he found a letter opener. He awkwardly twisted the letter opener in his bound hands, rubbing the sharp tip along the rope until he felt it loosen, there was a snap and the rope fell onto the floor. Crouching down, he grabbed the rest of the rope and did his best using the remains to bind them around mister Cullen's wrists, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket to tie it around the other man's mouth, gagging him. He searched the other man for anything valuable, found a platinum pocket watch and about sixty bucks.

Rubbing his sore wrists, he tried to come up with an escape plan, knew there weren't many options. He rummaged through some cabinets, finding some more money, his heart jumped for joy when he found a loaded pistol in the small nightstand next to the bed, he slipped the gun into the waist of his pants, feeling relief take over him at the familiar weight of it. He glanced around the room, his eyes catching sight of the small narrow door next to the bed, he quickly stumbled over to it. Inside there was a small bathroom and when he stepped inside he caught sight of himself in the reflection of the mirror, his haunting eyes looking back, his skin pale, covered in blood. His own blood and mister Cullen's. Splashing some water on his face, he rubbed until most of the blood had been washed away. There was still some blood trickling down his nose and temple though, but at least it didn't reek of alpha.

He felt a small draft and looked to his side, there was a narrow window, probably just big enough for him to slip through. It was risky, but it was his only option at the moment. The other option was to take his gun and burst through the main door, probably starting a shootout, he certainly didn't want that. It would be wiser to do this stealthy, get back to Dutch and the rest without anyone noticing, accept their losses and get the Hell off this train.

Stepping up to the window, he pushed it up, popping his head out to look through. The rolling green hills were long gone, been replaced by a dark forest higher up at the feet of a tall mountain. He collected his strength, ignored his aches and let the adrenaline take over as he climbed through the window. Almost immediately he felt a strong wind whipping and pulling at him as he clawed at the window frame to keep himself from falling. He grabbed the edge of the train's roof and pulled himself up, his feet dangling in the air for a couple of terrifying seconds before he was able to crawl himself on top of the roof. Rolling onto his back, he looked up at the sky and let out a heavy and deep breath, adrenaline ebbing out of his system and leaving him weak and exhausted. He didn't just feel physically exhausted, he mostly felt mentally exhausted, completely drained. But there was no time to rest, he had to get going.

He crawled upwards, trying his best not to sway and stumble sideways as he carefully and silently stepped in the direction of the end of the train, in the direction of where he knew his and Dutch's room was. When he neared the ending of the wagon, he gathered some of his remaining strength and jumped over to the next wagon, almost losing his balance and falling off when he landed. The next wagon, he didn't dare and try the jump, instead he used the rusty train ladder to get off the roof.

The rest of the walk back to his room had felt like a daze, his vision still swimming, he used his sleeve to wipe the fresh blood off his face. He knew he had grabbed some attention, had caught other people staring at him in bewilderment as he stumbled through the carriages, thankfully none of them had tried to stop him. It had felt like ages before he finally stepped up to the door to his room. He groaned in pain and slapped his hand on the door.

He heard some small noises, some whispers, then just silence.

He slapped the door again, this time louder. He leaned against it, just beginning to realize how drained he was without the adrenaline in his system. “..Let me in.. is Arthur..” He said slowly, there was a slur in his voice and he felt dizzy and nauseous. Mister Cullen must have hit his head harder than he first thought he had.

He could hear the lock and slumped forwards when it opened, letting himself drop into familiar arms.

“Shit, Arthur! What the Hell?” He heard John say as he caught him. 

He felt himself get dragged into the room, the door closing behind him, heard the lock click shut as John sat him down on his bed. He looked around the room, saw Dutch’s, John's and Javier's worried expressions. Even Micah was there, looking slightly uneasy.

“What the Hell happened?” John said angrily and turned to Dutch. “What the Hell did they do to him, Dutch? I thought you said you had this under control?”

“Calm down, son.” Dutch growled at John and crouched in front of Arthur. He grabbed the towel Arthur had been using this morning and wiped the blood from the other's face.

“Arthur, son.. what happened?” He questioned. Arthur thought there was a hint of worry and maybe even some guilt in his voice, or maybe it was just him imagining things.

“He's.. on to us, Dutch.” He groaned as he took the towel from Dutch, put some pressure on the cut on his temple. “..has been from the very beginning..”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for calling Javier a greaser. Please forgive me!
> 
> Comments and kudos are so loved, they fuel me. <3  
Also thanks to all the lovely people who decided to grant me some. <333


	13. Chapter 13

“He's on to us, Dutch.. we have to get off this train.”

Dutch narrowed his eyes and turned away, pacing through their narrow room as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Goddamn it.” He growled. 

“He tied me up, but I escaped.. Had to beat him down though.” Arthur grunted as he wiped the fresh trickle of blood away from his nose. “…He said he hid something valuable in our room, he wants to get you locked up.”

Dutch turned to look at Arthur, said nothing.

“We have to get off this train, Dutch.” Arthur said again, this time a bit more forceful, a bit more urgent, when the other didn't respond. “I don't know how much time we have, but I do know that they will find mister Cullen, Hell they must've found him already. They could be here any minute now.”

Dutch stayed silent for a couple of more seconds, his eyes cold and unnerving. “We have.. to get the money, Arthur.” He said slowly in return, his voice low and on the edge of sounding dangerous. “He can't have this win.. Look at what he did to you, I can't.. accept this.”

“This is not about pride or winning, Dutch.” Arthur growled back. “We have to leave this goddamn train or we end up in jail.. or worse.”

“No, Arthur.” Dutch growled. “You have to.. listen to me.” He turned to the other three. “You all have to listen to me… I have a goddamn plan.” He said, his voice raising an octave. “I was planning on acting tonight, but this slip up of Arthur's will force us to perform right now.”

Arthur let out a frustrated sigh. His vision was still swimming and he still felt completely drained, he didn't have the energy to be discussing with Dutch at the moment. It was so much easier to give in to Dutch, it always was.

“Dutch, look at Arthur, what state he's in after being with that goddamn bastard for less than an hour.” John piped in, his voice was gruff and daring. “We're down one man, you can't go expecting us to rob a goddamn train without one of our best men.” He hissed, for once Arthur was glad for the other's big mouth and his continuous insolent attitude towards Dutch. Although he had to disagree of the assumption of being a burden at the moment.

Dutch furrowed his brows, but kept silent, Arthur thought he saw a small hint of hesitation.

“Don’t listen to them, Dutch…” Micah spoke up. “The cowpoke's probably exaggerating..” He pointed an accusing finger at Arthur. “He hasn't been the same ever since that… night.” His lips quirked upwards into a sly smile when he saw Arthur tense. “Look at him. He's all shaken up after a little fight…”

Dutch straightened his posture, glancing at Micah.

“I heard it myself…” Micah continued. “There were guards talking about a great amount of money in that safe, ‘s worth a fortune..” He said slowly, as he moved to stand closer to Dutch. “We can't just leave all this money without even trying..”

Dutch eyed Micah, the small hint of hesitation seemed long gone. “Micah's right.” He said flatly and turned to John and Arthur. “We're robbing this train. With or without the two of you.”

This time John let out a frustrated sigh as he turned away to run a hand through his hair. “…Whatever Dutch, we'll do this your way..” He relented as he and Arthur shared a look.

Dutch frowned at John, but turned to look at Arthur. “Now I know you're not feeling all too well, but I need you strong and with me for just a little bit more, son.” He said as he clapped a gentle hand on the other's shoulder.

“Sure Dutch..” Arthur replied almost automatically, glancing at the hand on his shoulder. “..I'm fine.” He grunted. And for once he admitted to himself, he wasn't fine, no not at all. His body was aching, he was still bleeding from numerous cuts, his mind felt shattered, he felt like a complete mess, he was drained and exhausted. He wasn't even sure if he was able to stand up, let alone function with a gun in his hands. He was losing himself and he felt cornered and in panic almost everywhere and always. Always afraid something would happen that would trigger those awful flashbacks. Even Dutch's hand on his shoulder felt like a thousand knifes stabbing him.

He needed a drink, lots of it. He thought about the drink he had thrown in mister Cullen’s face. It was a pity, wasting good booze. The alcohol resting warm in his belly would've been preferable right at this moment.

“Are you all with me?” Dutch growled, distracting him from his thoughts.

They all nodded in unison. There was no room for their protests, there never was.

“Good.” Dutch said, looking quite satisfied with himself. “Now Javier, make sure to find that valuable thing mister Cullen hid in this room.”

“I'm already on it, boss.” Javier said as he kneeled down to look under the bed.

John turned to Arthur and threw him a gun belt. “Found this at the guard's quarters.” He grumbled in annoyance. Arthur let out a thankful grunt and nodded his head in appreciation when he noticed it was his own gun belt, he wrapped the belt around his waist. He remembered the pistol he had stolen from mister Cullen and took it out, studying it. It seemed expensive. It had an ivory handle covered in golden curly engravings. There were initials carved into the barrel. R.L.C. it read, perhaps the initials of mister Cullen's real name. He put it in his holster, decided he would take a look at it later. When he took the towel away from his temple, he noticed most of the bleeding had finally stopped. He frowned when he realized his shirt and vest were drenched in it though. The blood would certainly attract attention if he were to walk out of this room in it. He made quick work of removing his shirt and vest, put on a clean light blue shirt instead. 

“So do tell me. What is the plan, Dutch?” John grunted as he searched through the room as well, so far no luck of finding the valuable object. It shouldn't have been that hard to find though.

“You just all follow my lead.” Dutch said slowly as he crouched in front of Arthur again to inspect the numerous cuts and bruises on the other's face, his hand came up, fitted a hand under Arthur's chin to tilt it sideways. His other hand came up to gently trace his fingers over a particular dark bruise on Arthur's cheek, his brows were furrowed together in a deep angry frown. “Certainly.. they’ll let me in when I tell them I want to put some of my money into the safe.”

John grunted in response and Arthur had to agree with him. Didn't sound like much of a plan. No plan B, no escape plan, just hope for the best.

“I don't think there's anything valuable in this room, Dutch.” Javier spoke up after a short while. “I searched through every nook and cranny..”

Arthur tensed, was it all a setup? Did mister Cullen make it up to get him to talk?

Dutch gave him a long hard stare before letting go of him and standing up as well. “…There's no more time, get your guns ready, we're leaving now.” He said.

Arthur wiped the small fresh trickle of blood away from his nose and put the bloodied towel down next to him on the bed as he stood up as well, his legs shaky. He put on his gray jacket to hide his gun belt underneath it as he shambled after the others and into the hallway. He noticed how John kept on glancing back at him, worry edged into his eyes.

“..I'm fine, Marston.” He growled at him as he held out one hand to the wall to steady himself.

“You don't look fine to me, Arthur.” John growled back at him, he halted and let Arthur walk past him, taking the end of the line to keep an eye on the other.

Arthur grumbled in response, decided he didn't have the energy to argue with John at the moment. He kept on following the rest, just hoping they wouldn't attract too much attention. He held his hand close to where his gun was, out of instinct, he felt the need to be ready for whatever that was about to come. 

When they were about to enter the dining carriage, they decided on separating in two groups. Javier, Micah and Dutch would go first, while Arthur and John would go after them a few minutes later. It wasn't a strange or a suspicious thing when a guard escorted a person through the train, but this many guards would certainly attract attention. They agreed they would join up just before entering the wagon which held the safe.

Arthur leaned against the wall as he and John waited, still feeling dizzy and nauseous. He knew he had to push his body just a little bit more. He imagined himself riding on Avalon's back, as they were heading back to their camp at Horseshoe Overlook, their saddlebags stuffed with the stolen money. Hopefully enough money to stay low for a little while. Hell, he already needed the break.

“Javier came to warn us when that goddamn bastard took you with him.” John said and snapped him out of his thoughts. “What the Hell happened, Arthur? He didn't do anything..” He trailed off.

“No he didn't.” Arthur said quickly, growling in annoyance, the thought alone could be enough to make him vomit. “..He was onto us from the start, tried to set us up. I caught him off guard, we fought.. and I won, got back to you to warn you all.”

John nodded slowly and furrowed his brows. “Dutch didn't tell me you had to go that Cullen guy, if I had known I would've tried to prevent it.”

“I'm not a goddamn kid, I can handle myself, Marston..” Arthur growled back in response.

John frowned. “Well, clearly you can't. Who the Hell is he anyway? Another goddamn Pinkerton waiting to lure us in?” John growled as he scanned the area for any troubles, repeater in his hands.

“He said he was a conman.” Arthur shrugged, the movement made his vision swim. “Not sure what to believe, he seemed full of lies.”

“Sounds like a conman..” John stated dryly.

Arthur chuckled slowly, though the amusement didn't quite reach his eyes. “..We gotta stay sharp and move fast, John. Don't reckon mister Cullen will let us steal the money without a fight.” Arthur grunted, his eyes meeting John's.

“Sure, but you just try to stay out of this as much as you can.”

Arthur hummed in response, he already knew he would be in the middle of it all when Hell decided to break loose. “Let's just go, Dutch must be waiting for us by now.” He replied instead in a gruff voice.

They went through the carriages without as much of a problem, one guard eyed them suspiciously when he saw Arthur stumbling, but thankfully he didn't do or say anything. It all seemed like a goddamn miracle, Arthur had been expecting the whole train to want to kill them at this moment. Seemed like he had delivered mister Cullen quite a punch, enough of a punch if he was still knocked out cold. They met up with the rest, just outside the wagon where they knew where the safe was. Dutch, Micah and Javier were casually smoking cigarettes, seemed like two guards and a rich pompous bastard just having a break. To the untrained eye, they didn't look suspicious at all.

Their eyes met and Dutch took the lead, he entered the wagon, the rest following closely behind him. Arthur's hand hovered close to his gun belt, adrenaline started to pump through his system again as he glanced around the narrow hallway. There were only two guards at the back, standing next to a heavy looking iron door. Dutch went straight to them, gave one of his charming smiles.

“Good day, gentlemen!” He greeted them warmly as he touched the brim of his hat. Arthur and John decided to stay a bit further away and turned to each other, gave each other a wary look.

The guards gave Dutch a curt nod in return. “Good day, sir.” They said in unison.

“I heard from a fine gentleman, I can safely dispose some of my money here..” Dutch continued as he clapped a friendly hand on one of the guard's shoulders. “You see, I made quite a fortune last night at the poker table..” He chuckled warmly. Arthur had to control the urge to roll his eyes.

“Ah, you're one of those lucky fellers.” The guard said back. “See what I can do for you, sir.” He rammed a fist on the iron door. “Henry!” He yelled.

They heard some low curses and shuffling noises through the other side of the door. A medium sized hatch opened with a loud creak and the grumpy face of an elderly man peeked through.

“What?” He snapped as he eyed Dutch.

“This fine gentleman here wants to put some of his money in the safe, help him out please.” The guard said, he turned back to Dutch. “Don't mind ol’ Henry here, he's an old coot, turning senile, but terrific at his job.”

Dutch let out a hearty laugh. “Seems like my type of man.”

Henry grumbled some incoherent curses and turned to grab some things. A few seconds later he shoved some papers and a pen through the hatch. “Fill these papers in.” He ordered curtly.

Dutch raised his brows in amusement. “Of course, good sir.”

Henry eyed him warily in return. “Goddamn assholes..” He grumbled as he shuffled away from the hatch.

“One of the finest hermits I've ever laid my eyes on.” Dutch chuckled, shook his head as he filled the papers in. Arthur couldn't help but feel all was taking way too long. He glanced over his shoulder, scanning the wagon for any kind of activity. Nothing yet.

“Like I said, he’s a bit.. cuckoo.” The guard smirked and lifted his index finger, made a circling motion at his temple.

Dutch filled in the papers and threw Arthur and John a look from the corner of his eyes. They moved a bit closer, tried to not look too suspicious when doing it. When Dutch finished filling it in, he turned back to the hatch in the door and held out the papers. Seconds later, they heard shuffling and all of a sudden Henry grabbed Dutch's wrist through the opening and pulled him close. He stared at Dutch's face, studying him as his lips quirked up in a somewhat crazed smile, he sniffed at the scent gland on Dutch's wrist.

“You.. smell like crazy.” Henry chirped.

Dutch frowned, he grabbed Henry's wrist and a second later he had his gun pointed at the old coot's forehead, soon followed by Micah and Javier pointing their guns at the two guards. The guards yelped in surprise and quickly dropped their guns as they raised their hands up in the air. Arthur and John took their guns out as well, separating to guard both the exits.

“..Is that so?” Dutch said slowly.

Henry cackled nervously.

“Now be a good lad, Henry, and let me and my friends in this safe here..” Dutch pressed his gun between Henry's eyes.

Henry stared cross eyed at the gun, let out another nervous chuckle. “Seems like I was right..” He grinned at Dutch, he was missing a couple of his teeth.

Dutch cocked his gun.

“Mister L.” Arthur hissed as he stepped closer to him, there was no need shooting innocent people.

Dutch ignored him, kept his penetrating gaze on poor Henry. “Last warning, you old coot.” His finger was a mere inch away from pulling the trigger.

Henry seemed quite unfazed by the gun pressed to his forehead, he smiled that crooked smile of his back at Dutch.

Dutch nodded his head at Micah, a second later a loud bang echoed through the carriage and one of the guards fell lifeless to the floor, a puddle of blood started to pool around his head.

Arthur gritted his teeth as he stared down into the guard's lifeless eyes.

“Jesus!” The other guard cried out in surprise, the guard Dutch had just been joking around with a mere minute ago. “Goddamnit.. Henry, just let them in!”

Henry let go of Dutch's wrist and raised his hands in surrender, all the time keeping that crooked smile of his on his face, looking somewhat mocking.

“Let. Us. In.” Dutch said again, punctuating each word, his voice was low and sounded deadly.

“Do as he says!” The guard ordered in panic.

Henry chuckled again, but did as he was told. There were a couple of loud creaking noises before the safe slowly opened. Dutch grabbed Henry by the neck and threw him at Micah, who caught him with a mocking laugh.

“Mister M. Get over here.” Dutch ordered. “Crack the safe.”

Arthur stepped over to them, swaying slightly to one side as he stepped over the lifeless body on the floor, he grimaced when the man's blood stuck to his shoes. When he entered the room, he noticed how small it was. Barely enough room for two persons. He felt Dutch's presence linger, he restrained himself from lashing out when he briefly felt a hand on his lower back before the other man turned away to keep watch at the exit.

He crouched next to the safe, kept his ear close to the lock as he began turning it. He was one of their best when it came down to cracking safes, but right now he didn't perform to his fullest, messing it up more than just a couple of times. He turned and turned and turned the lock, waiting for that clicking sound, but found he just couldn't concentrate. His mind was a shambles and he couldn't help but feeling like a complete wreck. He tried to focus on the lock, but every time he tried to concentrate, his thoughts drifted off and left him feeling distressed.

“What's taking so long, mister M?” Dutch growled at him after a minute, he leaned down to look over his shoulder.

“Almost.” Arthur growled back in response, Dutch's presence so close to him didn't help at all to ease his nerves.

There was a loud click and Arthur let out a deep breath he didn't realize he was still holding, the safe slowly swung open with a loud creak. To his disdain, he noticed the safe was filled with smaller drawers, all had their own separate locks.

“Goddamnit..” Arthur cursed as he scrubbed his hand across his face. Dutch let out a curse as well while Henry chuckled in amusement.

Dutch grabbed Henry by the neck again and dragged him to the safe, throwing him on the floor next to Arthur. “Open those goddamn safes!” He ordered, kicked the man in the chest.

Henry yelped in pain, slowly crawled up on his knees, his crooked back arching and shuddering. “I can't.” He growled as he spit some blood on the floor near Arthur's feet. Dutch kicked him again and Henry shrieked.

“Open them.” Dutch growled as he grabbed the fabric of Henry’s collar and lifted him up. He slammed the old man against the wall, papers scattered around them when a shelf was knocked down.

“I can't, I don't have the keys!” Henry yelped as he hid his head underneath his scrawny arms. "The owners, they keep the keys with them!"

Arthur frowned and glanced up at Dutch, but kept his mouth shut. Instead he tried to focus on one of the locks, there wasn't much time and he needed to at least try his best to open as much as he could. He took out his lockpick and started to work on one of the locks, thankfully it opened fairly quickly and easily. He took out multiple money clips, he reckoned it must be at least three hundred dollars. Nowhere near enough though. He went on to the next one, faintly acknowledging a gasping Henry, his mouth gaping like a fish, desperate for breath as Dutch squeezed the life out of him. From the corner of his eye he saw Henry’s body twitch and eventually slump, seconds later his body was thrown onto the floor, cold dead eyes staring back at him. Arthur halted in his actions, stared at Henry’s bloodshot lifeless eyes, he uncomfortably fumbled with the lockpick in his hand, momentarily distracted. He eventually was able to open yet another lock.

He quickly focused his attention back on the contents of the safe drawer, feeling disturbed.

“Goddamn yokel..” Dutch growled as he crouched next to Arthur, wiping his hands with a handkerchief. “How are you faring, son?”

Still feeling troubled, Arthur glanced down at Dutch's hands, his hands looked clean, but Arthur knew better. He was glad the blood wasn’t staining his hands this time, but it still felt like it did. He looked back down at the money he had taken so far. 

“Probably around five hundred bucks in total.” He grunted in response

“Nowhere near enough.” Dutch growled and took his gun out. “This is taking too long, take out your gun and shoot those goddamn locks.”

Arthur did as he was told, faintly recognized it to be Cullen's pistol. When they had shot all the locks, they took out all the contents; jewelry, about three thousand dollars and a couple of gold bars. It was certainly worth all the trouble. They stuffed their bags with the cash and valuables and stepped out of the safe.

Dutch reloaded his gun and pointed it at the last guard still alive.

“Please.. I just turned a dad, I have a wife-" The guard rambled in panic, his voice pleading. There was another loud bang when Dutch pulled the trigger and the guard fell dead next to his companion. Arthur stared at the smoke whirling out of Dutch’s gun. The death of those men had been completely unnecessary and useless. He knew he shouldn't judge, after all, he had pulled the trigger himself countless of times on countless of men, but he only killed to protect himself and his family, he never shot men when it wasn't necessary. He didn't shoot men pleading for their lives. He looked away from the sight, he reckoned he could never quite get used to the sight.

“What the hell, Dutch.” John growled out in anger as he turned to look at them over his shoulder when they stepped back out in the hallway. “That old son of a bitch was right, you're crazy.”

Dutch gave him a sharp look from across the hallway. “I did what was necessary, do you think I'm enjoying this?”

“Startin’ to think you do..” John growled back. “First that omega on the boat, now this..”

“I did what I had to do to keep us safe, son” Dutch said slowly.

“You reckon killin’ an old man is necessary to keep us safe?” John questioned as he narrowed his brows into a deep frown.

“Can't this wait for later?” Arthur growled as he inspected the rest of the wagon. He knew they were running out of time.

“For once I gotta agree with the cowpoke.” Micah said as he moved to one of the exits.

John huffed. “Let’s just get the Hell outta here then..” He turned to look through the window of the door. 

“Shit!” He cursed all of a sudden and raised his repeater. “…There are guards coming this way..” he said in a lower voice.

Dutch let out a curse as well, stepped up to him to look through the window, saw multiple guards lining up. “We'll take the other exit. Micah, you and Javier take the lead. Arthur, John, you cover our backs.” He ordered.

Arthur grimaced, felt his body protesting at the prospect of another fight, he wasn't sure if he could bring up any more energy, his body felt close to collapsing. How much more did he have to give? But as always there wasn't any time for his complaints. He shared a look with John and was quite sure the other could see his exhaustion. He sure wasn't able to hide it any longer.

He saw Javier and Micah slipping out of the other door in the direction to the back of the train, soon followed by Dutch. John came up to Arthur and they both took cover behind the heavy solid door of the safe, their guns ready.

“Go on, John.” Arthur growled at the younger man. “You got your family to think about, I’ll be right behind you after I deal with these goddamn bastards.” Though he wasn't all too sure if he would even be able to shoot straight in his pathetic condition. 

“Have you lost your goddamn mind, Arthur?” John snapped back at him as he cocked his gun.

“I have nothing to lose, Marston!” Arthur hissed back. “-And you do, you goddamn idiot. Think about your wife and kid.” He growled as he took his other gun out as well.

The door burst open and the glass shattered, interrupting their bickering. Men pooled into the wagon.

“Drop your weapons!” One of them ordered.

Arthur cursed under his breath, tried to muster some remaining strength, but found he didn't have much left in him. He took a deep breath and stepped away from the door, raised his hands in the air, his guns hanging loosely in his hands.

“You son of a bitch.” He heard John curse next to him.

“Drop those guns, omega!” The guard ordered. There were at least four guards in front of him, their guns all aimed at him.

He swallowed thickly, blinked his eyes slowly and time seemed to freeze as if in slowmotion. He twirled the guns in his hands lowered them in less than the blink of an eye and aimed, he pulled the trigger, loud echoes of gunshots ringing through his ears as the men dropped like flies in front of him. It all happened within milliseconds and time seemed to return back to normal as if nothing ever happened.

Arthur grunted and his vision wavered, had to find his balance as he pinched the bridge of his nose. When he felt a bit more stable, he turned to John.

“Let's move.” He grunted as they went after the others’ trail.

“Goddamn asshole..” John muttered, but followed after him as well.

They whistled for their horses when they shambled outside, just hoped their loyal companions were still following after them. Arthur stumbled after John when they climbed up the ladder and decided on moving to the train's rooftop and move further down the train in the hope of catching up with the rest. He tried to keep himself steady, knew if he lost his balance now, he would end up falling off the train, it didn't sound all too appealing. Beneath them, inside the wagons, they heard loud yelling, guards yelling out orders and loud thuds of footsteps. When they got to a carriage without a rooftop, they silently climbed off the ladder and crouched, moving in between big crates and boxes. Suddenly they heard gunshots close by and some more loud yelling ahead of them. They followed the narrow path along the crates, rushing up to the loud noises. A bullet whizzed right past John's head. He cursed under his breath, the both of them quickly ducking behind a crate for cover. Arthur took the lead and they kept their heads low as they made their way over to where they hoped Dutch, Javier and Micah were.

“Shit! Watch out!” John suddenly yelled when Arthur went around the corner of a crate, looked up and came face to face with the barrel of a shotgun. Not hesitating for a second, John kicked the shotgun away, the gun shooting up in the air as he dived on top of the guard, both toppling onto the floor, the guard ending up being tossed off the train when John kicked him off of himself.

John lay on his back, let out a huge breath and took the hand Arthur offered him to lift him up.

“Thanks..” Arthur grumbled as they continued moving forwards.

“You owe me now.” John grunted back, the corner of his lips quirked upwards as he duck down behind a smaller crate.

Arthur gave him an annoyed stare. “Shut it, Marston. Or the next time I'll let those wolves feast on your corpse.”

John grumbled back in return, cursed when yet another bullet flew right past his shoulder.

They moved a bit further and Arthur looked from behind his cover, felt relief wash over him when he saw Dutch, Javier and Micah a couple of feet away from them. They had taken cover behind a couple of crates as well, shooting at multiple guards in front of them. Thankfully they seemed unharmed. He wouldn't have minded if Micah got harmed though. He wouldn't have minded it one bit if the son of a bitch would get shot in the face right this instant. Felt tempting doing it himself.

Arthur whistled at them to gain their attention, saw Javier looking over in their direction, their eyes meeting briefly before Javier nudged Dutch and he looked over to them as well. Dutch motioned with his hands for them to stay where they were, cover their backs until he hopefully had an escape plan figured out.

Not much later, they were cornered from both sides and slowly running out of ammo. Arthur tensed, there seemed no way out of here and there was still no sign of their horses, he really had no idea how they would get off this train. He whistled for Avalon again, just hoping the horse was within earshot. An escape plan seemed far out of reach at the moment.

“Mister O'Malley!” They suddenly heard an all too familiar voice call out to them and the gunfire ceased, he could see the frown deepen on Dutch's face from afar. Arthur recognized that arrogant voice all too well himself. Mister Cullen had arrived at the scene.

“You and your men. Hand yourselves over.” Mister Cullen said, his voice loud enough to reach them.

“Now mister Cullen…” Dutch spoke up from behind his cover as he reloaded his gun in this momentum of peace. “You know we can't do that.”

“Your lives will be spared if you do.” Mister Cullen replied, his voice sounding calm and collected, as if he was already in complete control of the situation.

“Our lives will be spared… You hear that, boys?” Dutch turned to look at his men and let out an amused chuckle. “If I die, I rather die on this train than on the gallows.”

“You're surrounded, mister O'Malley. But we can strike a deal. No one needs to get killed.” Mister Cullen responded calmly. Arthur glanced at the alpha from behind his cover, feeling somewhat satisfied when he saw the dark bruise that had formed on the other man's jaw.

“I'm all ears.” Dutch threw back at mister Cullen.

“Give all the money back.. And that omega, you hand him over to me.” Mister Cullen said. “You can keep the jewelry and gold bars. All will be forgotten and you and the rest of your men can continue on your own merry way.”

Arthur's breath caught in his throat, made eye contact with Dutch. 

Dutch looked pissed and offended. And Arthur couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief when it seemed Dutch didn't look all too interested in the deal. 

“We rather take our chances.” Dutch growled back, his voice low and dangerous.

They suddenly heard the whinnying of horses, and Arthur's heart made a little jump for joy when he could make out the familiar low and gentle neigh of Avalon. Felt astounded the loyal beast had been following their trail ever since Emerald station. The train didn't reach high speeds, but still. It made him appreciate his companion even more.

Not all of their horses had come to their aid though. Seemed like Old boy wasn't anywhere near to be found, probably had lacked the stamina keeping up with the train for the entire night and morning. He was well.. an old boy after all. He heard John curse next to him.

“Goddamn horse..” He grumbled, making Arthur's lips curl upwards.

“Just hop on the back of one of our horses.” Arthur grunted as he glanced over at Dutch, saw the other three ready themselves for their jump off the train.

“Shoot those horses!” He heard mister Cullen yell out the order.

They knew they had to act fast, it was now or never, or their last chance of safely getting off this train would be gone. Arthur and John took aim at the guards, shooting their guns empty, covered the others' backs while Dutch, Javier and Micah made a dash for it, saw them jump off the train and land safely on their horses’ backs. Arthur pushed John forwards as well and followed after him, lining themselves up next to Avalon who was still galloping next to the train.

“Get moving, John.” He growled at him. “Get on Avalon, I'll jump right after you.”

“You better!” John yelled back at him as he made the jump, landed with an experienced ease in Avalon's saddle, certainly wasn't the first time they had made such desperate escapes.

But before Arthur could make the jump himself, that split second no one had him covered, he saw mister Cullen rise from behind his cover, cocked his gun, 

-and shoot Avalon.

Arthur watched in horror as he saw the shot hit Avalon in its hind leg. The horse let out a distressed neigh, slowed down, stumbled as its legs gave out on him and crashed into the dirt. He saw John being thrown off the saddle, crashed into the dirt as well before the train rode them out of sight.

“Shit!” Arthur cursed, paced around in distress. “Goddamnit!”

“Drop your guns, mister Callahan.” Mister Cullen said calmly, a triumphant grin slowly beginning to cross over his features.

“You goddamn son of a bitch.” Arthur growled in anger. “You shot my horse!” He didn't drop his guns, instead he aimed both his guns at mister Cullen.

“Drop. Your. Guns.” Mister Cullen said slowly, his grin wavered.

Arthur kept his guns aimed at mister Cullen. He glanced around, tried his best to keep calm, noticed how he was completely surrounded by guards. He glanced behind him, saw the forest and the steep incline looming up behind the trees, saw the tracks change underneath the train when they were at the beginning of a high bridge. 

They were crossing a narrow river, a river with a strong current. 

The cliffs were steep, it would be a long way before he would hit the water.

All reason was lost when he met mister Cullen's eyes again, smelled that heavy and heady scent only an alpha could emit. He let panic take over him and he jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just making use of those conveniently placed rdr2 horses. Of course they would follow the train on their own free will. They would do so in the game, so..
> 
> Thank you for all those amazing and lovely comments and kudos, made me real happy! They really helped me when writing this chapter. To show my gratitude, I made this chapter a bit longer than the previous ones. <3


	14. Chapter 14

His fall in the water was hard.   
The impact made him gasp for breath, his body hitting the surface of the water as if he had hit the rocks instead, white, hot, intense pain ran through his back and limbs. The current was strong and relentless, pushed him under the moment he hit the water and carried him away. He tried to swim, he tried to get his head out of the water, he tried to breath air into his aching lungs, but he was pulled under again the second he was able to. He felt himself tumble against sharp rocks, felt his skin break and his bones protest when the current smashed him into multiple solid surfaces. Felt like he was being pulled apart by just the sheer force of the water.

He was able to break free, pop his head out of the water, felt sweet air fill his lungs for a couple of blissful seconds. He reached his hands out, desperately trying to grasp for anything he could reach, tried his best to keep his head above water. A bit further ahead of him he could see rocks sticking out, tried to get his legs to move to swim over to them, instead he felt blinding hot pain in his lower leg. Flailing with his arms, he tried his best to get there, but the current was too strong.

He was pulled under again, bashed his head against something solid and everything went black.

…………………………………….

John woke up, feeling disoriented. 

He woke up with a massive headache. But also woke up to the comfortable and familiar scent of his mate being close around him.

“..Abigail?” He groaned. 

“John Marston, you fool..”

He slowly cracked his eyes open, took a while to realize he was in his own tent. He tried to sit up slowly, but slumped back down when white hot pain flared through his skull, felt like his heart was pounding behind his eyes. He clenched his eyes shut and brought a hand up to his face, rubbing his eyes and temples, felt a big painful bump on his head.

“Jesus.. what happened?” He grunted in pain.

“You being a goddamn idiot, that's what happened, John Marston.” He heard Abigail huff. “You had me worried sick.”

He looked up at her, saw the worried frown etched onto her delicate features.

He grumbled and closed his eyes again, feeling bad for having her worry like that.

“You hit your head pretty bad when you fell off Arthur's horse.” She said when their eyes met again.

This time John was able to sit upright when Arthur's name was mentioned. Memories flooded his mind, suddenly remembering everything that had happened. The train job, Arthur's horse getting shot, him falling of that very same horse. But Arthur, what had happened to Arthur? 

“Shit! Arthur! Is he alright?” He flung his legs over the bedside.

“Lie down, John.” Abigail snapped as she tried to push his legs back on the bed. “You're in no shape to be running around this camp.” She scowled.

John grabbed her hand, halting her in her actions. “Abigail.. where is Arthur?” He growled, feeling worried himself.

Abigail hesitated for a second. “He.. we don't know where he is, probably still on that train, held captive..”

“Goddammit, Shit!” John growled. “That son of a bitch!” He groaned when he lifted himself up, held his head in his hand as he staggered forwards and out of his tent. He had to talk to Dutch.

“John! Would you lie back down, you stubborn man!” Abigail pulled him back by his arm. “Would you for once listen to me, please!” There was worry and desperation in her voice. “You are hurt! You've been unconscious for more than a day!”

“Abigail.” John growled and turned to her. “That son of a bitch… he left Arthur to rot.”

“John..” Abigail said slowly. She hesitantly let go of the his arm.

John gave her one more look before stumbling over to Dutch's tent.

“Dutch.” John growled in anger when he stepped inside, saw Dutch reading one of those Miller books of his. How dare he be reading when Arthur was still in danger. Why did everyone go on about their normal routine as if there was nothing wrong?

“John, son.” Dutch put his book aside and stood up from his cot. “Are you alright? You had me worried, son.” He gently grabbed John's shoulders, studied the dark bruising on the other man's head.

“You son of a bitch, you left Arthur!” John half yelled, shrugged Dutch's hands off of him and balled his fists. He soon had to take hold of the tent's pole when he felt himself swaying from the outburst, his vision swimming.

“I didn't have a choice, John.” Dutch growled back at him, his expression quickly switching from worry to annoyance. “We searched for the two of you when you didn't join us. We found you.. lying unconscious on the ground. The train out of sight and Arthur nowhere to be found.”

“You could've searched for him, Dutch.” John furrowed his brows and clenched his teeth.

“We did, son.” Dutch said slowly. “Micah searched for him everywhere, but he found nothing. Arthur's probably captured.. by that mister Cullen..” His face turned wry, his features twisting into an expression of disgust.

“Micah?” John's face turned to a look of disbelief. “The man would've killed Arthur himself if he found him!”

“Enough John.” Dutch snapped at him. “Go get some rest.”

“But Dutch! We can't just leave Arthur with that man.” John half yelled, frustration clearly visible on his face. “You've seen it yourself, you've seen how he looked at him!”

Dutch gave him a dark glare and for once John thought he saw worry in the other man's eyes, an honest kind of concern which he hadn't seen all that often on the other man's face. The last time he had seen it was when Arthur had came back from that awful incident.

“We'll get him back, I promise.. I have a plan, John.” Dutch growled slowly as he turned to sit on his cot again, he took his book in his hand. “I just need more time… I need more faith, son.”

John let out a frustrated sigh as he scrubbed his hand across his face. He turned away without saying anything else. He wobbled out of the tent, swaying dangerously to one side, decided to sit down on the log at the campfire till his world stopped spinning. He groaned, feeling restless, frustrated and still very much in pain. He rubbed his head. His headache was absolutely killing him. 

His worry was killing him.

He really wanted to go and find Arthur, but right now he didn't think he wouldn't even be able to sit on a horse, let alone make the long journey up to Applebridge. He felt absolutely goddamn useless like this. But how could the others just all sit here and do nothing at all? While Arthur was probably captured, hurt, or worse, he might’ve been taken by that awful man. He cringed at the thought alone. He had noticed Arthur hadn't been able to deal well with other alphas ever since that awful incident. To be honest, Arthur hadn't been able to deal well with anything at all ever since. The other man had been jumpy, always looking stressed and paranoid, he hadn't been himself at all. 

“Hey brother, I'm glad to see you up and about.” A voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

He turned his head up to Javier, who clapped a gentle hand on his shoulder and offered him a cup of coffee. He grumbled a thanks in response and took the cup, taking a sip as he stared into the fire. Javier sat down next to him, his own cup of coffee in his hands.

“Don’t worry. We'll find our brother and get him back.” Javier said. “Dutch said he has a plan.”

“Dutch says a lot of things.” John responded, his voice sounding bitter.

Javier gave him a look, but didn't say anything.

John thought back to how they escaped. How once again Arthur had saved him by urging him to get on his horse first, and how John had gotten the horse shot instead.

“Goddamn, Shit.” John grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Javier gave him a questioning look.

“The horse? How's the horse?” John asked.

“I don't know, man.” Javier said. “We had to leave it, we didn't have the time. We took you and ran away.”

John scrubbed a hand across his face, groaning. “Shit.. Arthur loves that horse.. He's gonna kill me.”

“It probably didn't suffer for all that long, a predator must've ended its misery by now.” Javier stated simply, took a sip of his own coffee.

John paled. If Arthur knew his beloved horse had been slaughtered by a pack of wolves or a murderous cougar, he would sure as Hell kill him, probably slowly.

He groaned and Javier gave him a funny look.

He really needed to get out of here as soon he felt a bit more stable, when he would be able to walk without falling. He needed to find Arthur, help him and get him somewhere safe. Not necessarily this camp.

He would get his brother back to safety. No matter what.

…………………………………….

When he woke up, the only thing he could feel, was blinding hot pain all over his body. His lungs felt like they were on fire and his throat ached when he swallowed, felt like he was swallowing razors. He cracked one eye open, quickly closed it again when his surroundings felt far too bright for his liking. His head was pounding with a marvelous headache and when he tried moving his limbs, he couldn't suppress the groan of pain. 

He felt like complete and utter shit.

Though when he shifted, he noticed there was a gentle kind of warmth and softness around him, felt like he was lying on a soft mattress of clouds, with a warm blanket tucked to his chin.  
It took a while for him to want to comprehend why he was lying in something so soft, he realized he must be lying in a bed. His body was aching and unwilling, but somehow comfortable. He had difficulty remembering how he even had ended up in a bed in the first place. Was he still on the train? Or maybe back at home in his own cot? Except this bed felt a lot more comfortable than his own cot.

Something was triggering inside him, something that had triggered a feeling of dread before, a feeling of panic. He tried focusing on that something, but his head was having a lot of difficulty focusing on anything at all at the moment. He decided on trying to open his eyes instead, this time doing it more slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the light around him. When his eyes had finally adjusted, he noticed it wasn't even that bright outside. He looked up at a wooden ceiling and noticed the gentle, soft pitter-patter of the rain hitting the rooftop. Heard the crackling of a fire nearby, he could smell the smoke, but also dried herbs. He flared his nostrils when he thought he caught the scent of.. wet dog?

But his nose caught another scent, a scent that had triggered that feeling of dread, that feeling of panic just a few moments ago. 

He caught the scent of an alpha.

He sat up, feeling panic take over, groaning when white hot pain flared up through his body. He looked around slowly, he was in what seemed like, a small cabin. There was no one to be seen, he was alone. He looked down at the blanket that had pooled around his waist, noticed he had been changed in a loose checked green dress shirt, his chest seemed to have been wrapped up in bandages underneath the shirt. 

He carefully and slowly swung his legs over the bedside, noticed he wasn't wearing any pants, also noticed the numerous cuts and bruises on his bare skin. His lower leg was wrapped up in bandages and was throbbing painfully. 

What had happened to him?

He thought back and this time he was able to focus his mind on the whirling of thoughts and memories. It all came back to him. He remembered now. They had tried to escape from the train, from mister Cullen. He, Dutch, Micah, Javier and John. 

John.

Shit. The last thing he remembered about John, was Avalon getting shot, collapsing with John on its back, John being thrown a couple of feet away when Avalon crashed into the dirt. He had no idea if John was okay, he had made quite the tumble.

He also remembered being cornered, how he had desperately jumped off the train himself, down into that narrow and treacherous river. Probably that's how he had ended up all battered and bruised. The river's current had been relentless and unforgiving, dragging him underwater, stealing sweet oxygen away from his lungs whenever he tried to gasp for breath, smashing him into rocks, bruising him, cutting him. It felt like a miracle he had even survived.

He looked around the cabin. It looked cozy and warm and it gave him a somewhat comfortable vibe, even with the scent of alpha lurking around, nagging him. Every bit and piece of wall was covered in pictures, some framed and some not. Pictures of nature, wildlife, flowers and herbs, rivers, glaciers, cattle and dogs and cats. The curtains were checked red and in the corner of the room, next to the stone fireplace, there was a small kitchen, with pans and kettles hanging on the wall. Above the fireplace, hanging from the ceiling, were all kinds of tied up bushes of herbs, hanging to dry. There was a simple table with two wooden chairs, a candle and a vase with wild flowers. Lots of shelves filled with books. A comfy chair next to a large cabinet filled with even more books and other odd trinkets. One particular shelf caught his attention, an odd collection of strange looking teapots was displayed on it. A teapot that looked like a chicken, an other resembled a house, an other a horse, one teapot seemed to be covered in all kinds of different dog breeds and there were a lot more teapots he couldn't quite define.  
At the other side of the cabin, where his bed was, there was a smaller cabinet with some more books. He gritted his teeth when he reached for it and picked one book out. ‘American Wildlife', it read. He flipped it open, the pages were filled with drawings of local wildlife, together with pieces of text of information. He put the book back and took another one out, when he flipped the book open, a pressed flower came out, he recognized it to be a chocolate daisy, the warm cacao fragrance hit his nose and somehow soothed his nerves. Felt like this alpha was as fond of nature as himself. He gently took the pressed delicate flower in his hand and placed it back where it came from.

He shifted again and winced, had to grit his teeth from the pain that ran through his entire body. He wasn't all that surprised of his soreness though, the fall from the train alone had probably left him with some minor injuries, felt like he might have cracked a rib or two at the least. The rest of his body seemed mostly extremely sore, covered in cuts and bruises. He had felt like this before, when he had started training Boadicea when she was still a rambunctious, young mare full of playfulness and insolence, she had bucked him off and he had made a particular bad fall. He had felt sore for weeks.

He glanced down at the bandages around his lower leg, saw splotches of red and brown and yellow that had seeped through the fabric. He tugged at the bandages, hissed when it felt like the wound had grown stuck to it, would surely be a hassle to get it off later.

He got distracted when he thought he heard something outside, it might've been the rain, but his doubt soon washed away when he was certain he heard the sound of hooves, his heart started to hammer in his chest when the sound of hooves stopped and was soon followed by footsteps, the creaking of wood when someone stepped up the front porch and heard the door slowly crack open. He sat straight, looking around for any escape, maybe a weapon to defend himself with. Found nothing but books.

A man stepped inside, an alpha, evident by his scent. He didn't really look like one though. He looked a bit silly, a bit funny looking with his panama straw boater hat and wide poofy pants. He didn't give off that typical dominant alpha vibe, in fact he seemed quite harmless. He was holding onto some plants, herbs probably by the scent of it.

“Thank goodness! You're awake!” The man exclaimed and wanted to walk over to him, halted almost immediately when he saw Arthur tense up. He raised his hands up, slightly bowed his head as if he was standing in front of a cornered animal. “My apologies, good sir, you've probably.. been through a lot, I should give you some space.” He slowly stepped back and went to his small kitchen instead.

Arthur coughed into his hand, felt a bit uncomfortable by the man's politeness. “..It's.. okay.” He grunted, his voice gruff and scratchy, his throat sore and aching.

“I went to the liberty of fetching some fresh herbs,” The man took his soaking wet coat off and hung it next to the fireplace. He took a kettle, filled it with water, putting the kettle next to the fire. “You must be hurting.. I can make you some ginseng tea, it'll help for the pain.”

Arthur grunted in response, fumbled with the blanket in his lap, still feeling uncomfortable by the stranger's kindness. The man seemed to have gone out in the rain to get herbs for him, treated his wounds, gave him a bed to rest in. It all felt like a bit too much, he wasn't worth all this trouble and attention.

“Thank you…” He grumbled as he uncomfortably scratched the back of his head “Don't know how to repay you though.” He wasn't carrying any of the money they had taken from the train job, he had given everything to Dutch.

The man turned to him and smiled politely. “Don't fret, good sir. I just want you to get well soon. You were in quite a state. Should have a look at that leg of yours later on.”

Arthur grunted again, looked to his left through one of the small windows, thick droplets of rain gliding down the glass. It was dark inside the cabin, even though it wasn't dark outside. But the warmth of the sun was hidden behind a thick layer of rainy clouds. It seemed like a dreary day, just as dreary as he felt right now. He scrubbed a hand across his face, suddenly feeling that all too familiar exhaustion taking over.

“..Wherever is that silly dog?” He heard the other man mumble to himself. “Please do excuse me..” He said as he walked over to the door. 

The man opened the door and peeked his head out. “Ollie! Come here boy!” He said and whistled. Arthur could hear an enthusiastic bark in response, soon followed by the pitter-patter of dog paws on the front porch. The man let a black and white dog in, it rushed inside, its tail wagging enthusiastically when he saw Arthur. The dog, Ollie, had a stick in its mouth and he quickly rushed over to Arthur when their eyes met, it put the slimy wet stick on Arthur's lap before shaking the rain out of its fur.

Arthur raised his arm, protecting his face from the onslaught of dog-smelling water droplets, a humored laugh escaping from his mouth. It helped ease some of his distress.

The man panicked, ran up to the Ollie and dragged it away from Arthur. “Bad dog! Ollie!” He scolded in that silly voice of his and the dog seemed none too impressed by his scolding. Arthur couldn't blame the dog though. He wiped his cheek, still chuckling.

“M-my apologies, good sir!” The man half stuttered and Arthur couldn't recall he'd ever heard an alpha stutter before.

“It's fine.” Arthur grunted, the corner of his lips still slightly quirked upwards as he watched the other man take a blanket and dry the dog at the fireplace. Arthur slowly took the slimy stick in his hands and put it on the floor, from the corner of his eyes he thought he saw Ollie 's ears perk up in interest. 

Arthur glanced at the man. “I appreciate the hospitality, mister uhh…?”

“Oh, but where are my manners! Albert Mason is the name.” Mister Mason took a couple of quick steps towards Arthur and stretched out his hand for him to take it. 

Arthur hesitated for a second, but eventually took the outstretched hand and shook it. “Arthur.. Morgan.”

“Well it's nice to meet you, mister Morgan.” Albert smiled at him and turned back to the kitchen, took the kettle and poured some hot water in a cup. He grabbed some of the herbs and stirred them through the drink. Ollie lay down next to the fireplace, drying its fur as he stared up with warm honey-colored eyes at its owner. 

“Here's something to help you heal up, also soothes the throat.” Mister Mason did a nervous laugh, seemed like one of his characteristics. He handed Arthur the cup and he took it with a slight tremble in his hands.

Arthur took a small sip of the hot beverage, it wasn't particularly tasty, but it wasn't all that bad either. “Thanks uhh.. for helping me out..” He grunted as he slowly leaned back against the wall, his feet dangling limply over the bed's side, feeling too tired to sit upright. His body was protesting, it had been for a while now, but only now was he beginning to notice just how drained he really felt, he had wanted to ignore it for some time now, but seemed like his body was catching up with him, seemed like his body was done with all his bullshit.

“Oh please! You don't have to thank me, mister Morgan!” Mister Mason chuckled that nervous laugh again as he poured himself a cup of the ginseng tea as well and sat down in one of the chairs at the table, he took his boater hat off, fumbled with it in his hands before placing it on the windowsill. Arthur watched as the other man started to fumble with the ear of his cup instead, seemed like the other man wanted to ask or say something, but probably wanted to stay polite.

Mister Mason gave a small nervous chuckle. “..So what happened to you, mister Morgan?” He eventually spoke up, seemed like curiosity had won from politeness.

“I don't remember.” Arthur grunted in response, how easy the lie rolled off his lips. “I think I fell in that river.” He added when mister Mason gave him an unsure look.

“You don't remember how you fell in?”

“No..” Arthur grunted and shrugged. Regretted the movement almost instantly when his muscles ached in protest.

“You must've hit your head pretty hard when you fell, or maybe hit your head when the river's current dragged you along.” Mister Mason said in thought, cocked his head to study Arthur's face from afar. “Your face is all swollen and bruised up after all.”

Arthur knew why his face was all swollen and bruised, suppressed the grimace when he recalled the fistfight with mister Cullen.

“How long I've been out, mister Mason?” Arthur grunted, brought the steaming cup up to his lips to take a small sip. The drink indeed calmed some of the ache in his throat.

Mister Mason's eyes widened, seeming to recall the memory. “At least a day now, I found you yesterday at the riverbank. My goodness, when I saw you, you looked more dead than alive!”

“..Still alive unfortunately.” Arthur joked, but the joke felt wrong, even to his own ears, felt more like the truth. He coughed and looked down at the drink in his hands, furrowed his brows. He looked up again at mister Mason's worried expression, his silence felt somewhat unnerving.

Arthur sighed, better to change the subject, he was most definitely making mister Mason uncomfortable. He looked around the small cabin, his eyes catching sight of all those photos again.

“You're a photographer, mister Mason?” He questioned, motioned with his hands at the pictures on the wall.

Mister Mason seemed easily distracted by the new subject, his eyes turning lively by the mention of the photos. “Well, I try to be.” He said, a sparkle appearing in his eyes. “Wildlife, that's my thing! ..or that's what I want to be my thing. You see, the agent of beauty is a talentless fool!” He chuckled and Arthur couldn't help but think, this man didn't seem like much of a fool.

“Well, some of these pictures look pretty damn good to me.” Arthur said as he observed the photo of a wild stag drinking at a stream.

“Why thank you, mister Morgan! But I think you give me more credit than I'm deserving of.” Mister Mason chuckled as he took another sip of his tea.

“Oh drat! I nearly forgot!” Mister Mason suddenly spoke up, nearly dropped his tea. “I put your belongings in that closet over there. Before you go thinking I kept everything for myself.” He chuckled nervously. “I saw the guns, they looked to be in quite a state from the river water.” He said. “But my experience with guns is close to zero, so I left them as they were.”

“You tell me you don't carry a gun when you go out making those wildlife photographs of yours?” Arthur raised a brow in surprise.

“Do I look like a man who owns a gun? Good heavens no, my good man!”

Arthur looked somewhat astounded. “Well damn, how did you even manage to survive till now?”

“Very droll, mister Morgan.” Albert chuckled dryly. “I don't need a gun, I have Ollie here to protect me!” Ollie looked up when it heard its name.

“Sorry to be blunt, mister Mason.” Arthur grunted as he studied Ollie from afar. “But your dog doesn't particularly look like a fighting dog.”

“Fighting? Oh Heavens no!” Albert exclaimed, looking somewhat mortified. Arthur couldn't help but think this was the strangest alpha he had ever encountered before in his life. “No, dear Ollie here warns me when there are dangers lurking about! Then we run off together, hide in some bushes or go get Herbert to get us away!”

“Herbert..?” Did he even want to know?

“My horse yes, Herbert.” Albert said as a matter of fact. “Before I took on photography, I bought Herbert to go out and collect herbs.”

Arthur gaped at the other man, didn't know what to say. He named his horse Herbert, cause he used it to collect herbs? Also that dog.. seemed like a bordercollie. He groaned when he realized. Ollie the bordercollie.

“Dear Ollie and Herbert are quite the team.” Albert continued, looking unfazed by Arthur's dumbfounded stare. “Ollie found you at the river and Herbert carried you to my cabin.”

“..They did that all by themselves?” Arthur couldn't help but imagine Ollie sitting in Herbert's saddle, smoking a cigarette as he steered Herbert through the forest, his soaked and injured self strapped to the horse's back.

Albert laughed that merry laugh of his. “Good heavens no, you silly buffoon! I had to lift you up in the saddle.” He said. “I must say, you're quite heavy for an omega.” He looked a bit flustered when he mentioned omega. And Arthur had to admit, he had nearly forgotten himself he was talking to an alpha. He didn't know the man, Hell, they hadn't talked for more than ten minutes, but having a conversation with mister Mason felt so carefree. It didn't feel like the other man had a hidden agenda, wanted to manipulate him, or dominate him. No, none of those things. He had never met an alpha like him before, but mister Mason had also probably never met an omega like Arthur before.

How easy it was talking to him. Felt like they were carved from the same piece of wood, but at the same time they totally weren't.

Arthur chuckled and placed the cup of ginseng tea on the small table next to the bed. He leaned further back into the wall again, feeling his eyes going heavy.

“You should take some more rest, mister Morgan.” He heard mister Mason say, his eyes were drooping already and he allowed himself to slowly slip sideways onto the bed, tugging his legs back underneath the blanket.

Just how easy it was talking to the man. It was astounding how at ease he already felt being around this complete stranger. Mister Mason's scent was already starting to feel familiar, which slightly spooked him to be honest. Alpha scents normally caused him to feel panicky ever since the incident, made his blood run cold in dread. 

But now he was able to somewhat relax. 

He eased himself on the mattress and allowed himself to slowly fall back into a dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized I love writing Albert, he's such a wonderful person. And I gave him Ollie the bordercollie, cause well.. I can. I made some art of Ollie, but I'm not sure if I should share it with you guys, it's not my best work lol.
> 
> Also finally giving Arthur some slack after all the torture I put him through. All the credit of bringing in Albert Mason goes to the lovely reader Maggy. She gave me the suggestion in one of her comments! Feel free to give me suggestions and ideas, I'll see if I like it and if it'll fit in the story. :)


	15. Chapter 15

“What's wrong, sweetie?”

Mister Cullen looked down at the half naked woman sitting on his lap, the young omega had been kissing soft wet pecks on his neck just a few moments ago. She looked up at him, was giving him a questioning look. Her parted lips, full and puffy, her flushed cheeks, her big blue eyes. She was a sight to behold, or at least, she should be.

When he had arrived in Applebridge, he had been extremely frustrated, full of disbelief of what had happened on the train. 

Frustration, it was something he couldn't cope well with, it was something he never really had to deal with anymore.

He had gone to his hotel, sitting alone in his suite, anger bubbling up close to the surface, ready to burst. He had decided to go to one of the higher class brothels in Applebridge to try and distract himself, clear his head. He had picked out this young woman to allow his frustrations to get swept away. Hopefully get his mind off a certain other omega.

But it wasn't working.

Mister Cullen sighed. “You are.. what's wrong, dear.” He responded flatly. He knew he wasn't being fair to her, she had done nothing wrong, in fact she was quite lovely. 

But she wasn't him.

He would've been satisfied with her before he met.. him.

That intriguing omega. Arthur Callahan. 

If that even was his real name.

The woman on his lap scowled at him and huffed, she got off his lap, straightened her skirt and put her top back on, looking offended while doing that. He knew he should be apologizing, should convince her to stay, convince her to continue what she was doing. But he didn't. He just didn't want her, he simply wasn't intrigued by her. She was bland, like all the other omegas he had met before her. Now that he had met Arthur Callahan, he felt like he didn't want anyone else.

But he wasn't even sure the other man was still alive. The frustration bubbled up again, but also sorrow and a dark feeling of dread. He didn't want to think about it being a possibility.

It was hard to admit it, but he had ruined everything. He hadn't played his cards right with Arthur. He had underestimated him. He hadn't expected such a resistance coming from an omega. 

He hadn't expected the other man was desperate enough to jump off a train and into a swirling deadly river just to get away from him.

Arthur wasn’t just any ordinary omega and he should've known better. It's why he was attracted to him after all.

He should've known better after their fistfight, getting caught off guard, the other man dealing him multiple powerful blows to the head, had been able to knock him out cold, tie him up, gag him, and afterwards even steal from him. When he woke up, he couldn't quite fathom it had really happened, he always had every situation under control, things like that never happened to him. It was hard to admit it had even happened at all, it was downright humiliating and infuriating..

But also admirable. 

How was Arthur able to resist his nature? How was he, as an omega, able to take control of an alpha?

He thought he would've been able to make Arthur succumb to him by just sheer dominance and manipulation and maybe some bribing. 

And he thought wrong.

He had also noticed there was something a bit off.. with Arthur. There seemed something wrong with the other man, something heavy he was carrying with him. The first time he saw him, the first thing he noticed was his alluring scent, second were those handsome features of his, and third was his solemn expression. Some kind of dark and sad vibe radiated from the other man and when their eyes met for the first time, he couldn't help but notice the small sliver of fear that had flashed through those eyes.

At first he felt the need to help him and that came as a bit of a surprise to him. When he had offered Arthur a better life, he was surprised he didn't want it to be a lie. But Arthur hadn't been all too keen on his offer. Mister Cullen hadn't expected the rejection, hadn't been rejected in such a long time. He confessed he hadn't handled the situation that well afterwards. The decisions he had made hadn't been his best, driven by unwanted feelings, like embarrassment, lust, want, anger and even desperation. It was pathetic really, he never lost his cool.

He took a cigarette from the small table next to him and lit it, brought it up to his lips to take a long drag, let it fill his lungs. He leaned back in the comfy chair and looked up at the ornamented ceiling, let out a big sigh, exhaling the smoke. It wasn't like him to be feeling this troubled. To feel worry and dread, to feel humiliation.

It was strange, he wasn't even feeling that upset by the money that was stolen from him by that mister O'Malley. Though losing to the other alpha felt a bit sore. He just didn't feel the need to get bothered by it. He had more than enough money to spend.

But that omega… that omega had messed him up big time. It was downright infuriating, but also somewhat arousing. It felt like a challenge and he hadn't been challenged in such a long time. He let his hand wander downwards, fumbled with the button of his trousers and slipped his hand inside, taking his length out to stroke himself. He was still half hard from the woman's ministrations, and he admitted he still needed some kind of relief. Better make use of the room he had paid a mighty sum for.

He groaned, brought the cigarette to his lips again, taking a puff, let it dangle on his lips as he leaned further back into the sofa as he continued stroking himself. Thought about Arthur, his alluring scent, that handsome face, those clear but solemn eyes. How he wanted him, those long and strong legs wrapped around him, muscular arms holding onto his shoulders as he buried himself deeply inside the other man.

He came sooner than he had expected, just thinking about Arthur was enough to get himself over the edge.

He slowly took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped himself clean, he tossed the cloth onto the floor and tucked himself back into his pants. Bringing a hand back up to the cigarette dangling between his lips, he took another long drag, exhaling the smoke up into the air.

He let out a deep sigh, not feeling any better after his release.

He knew he had to at least try and find Arthur, even if it meant finding a corpse. He needed to see him again, maybe try to win him over if he was even still alive, and if he wasn't alive, he needed closure.

He would have to gather a team, a team of capable trackers, maybe even some guns for hire. The forests around these parts were treacherous, weren't particularly safe. Full of predators. Animal predators and human.

He growled and pinched the bridge of his nose. All these thoughts, the need of going after some goddamn omega, it all felt like madness, he didn't feel like himself. He normally didn't act on feelings, he acted on rational thoughts. But he normally didn't need to pursue his love interests either. Whenever he fancied someone, they always fancied him back and would automatically return his interests, he never really had to make an effort. But they were never interesting enough to keep them around for long either, they bored him within a day or two. 

He had the feeling Arthur Callahan wouldn't bore him for the rest of his life.

He ran a hand through his hair and slowly lifted himself up and out of his seat. There was no time to dwell on his thoughts. If he wanted to find the other man, he would need to move as soon as possible. 

If Arthur was still alive, somewhere out there all alone, wandering through the forest, or maybe badly injured,   
he had to find him.

……………………………..

Arthur woke up, feeling a little bit more himself than the last time he had woken up. Still very much in pain and still very much exhausted, but somehow he felt a bit more at ease. He kept his eyes shut, focusing on this thoughts and the comfortable warmth around him, he knew the comfort wouldn't last for all that long though. 

His mind wandered back to that mister Mason, he was a friendly feller, didn't seem like he wanted anything from him, except for a speedy recovery, which still made Arthur feel slightly strange. Gave him the feeling he shouldn't be trusting of this man, he was still an alpha after all, he might be manipulating him, might be putting up a performance. But somehow, in the short period of time he had been around mister Mason, he somehow felt comfortable around the other man, it didn't seem like he had some kind of hidden agenda. It was real peculiar and he couldn't quite pinpoint why he wasn't bothered by this man.   
It made no sense at all.

He thought back to that mister Cullen, also to Dutch. How very different they were from mister Mason. He didn't particularly know mister Cullen and mister Mason that well. But they seemed like the complete opposites so far. He hoped mister Mason would allow him to stay for another day, just until he got back onto his feet. He would have to find a way back to camp, he didn't even know if Avalon was still alive or not. He sighed, he loved that horse. He sure hoped the animal was alright and if he wasn't, he just hoped his death was quick and painless.

He decided it was better to distract himself, decided on focusing on his surroundings instead. Still heard the soft pitter-patter of the rain on the cabin roof, the soft snoring of a dog, the wind rustling the leaves, the bleating of a goat and the cackling of chickens outside. He could smell Albert was nearby, it was the first time he didn't feel quite as unnerved by an alpha's scent. The other man's scent was quite nice to be honest, he had an almost earthy scent, reminded him when rain falls on dry soil after a long period of drought. It was somewhat distracting him, even appealing. 

He quickly brushed the thought away. 

He knew he should focus on getting himself up and groaned in pain when he tested moving his limbs, tried to stretch his sore legs, but relented almost immediately. Maybe he should start with opening his eyes first.

He had no idea how long he had slept, but when he slowly cracked his eyes open, he noted it was still bright outside. Or maybe he had slept for another whole day. He had no concept of time, didn't have the slightest of clues what time it was or how long he had already been staying inside this cabin. And for once he didn't care much either, he was too exhausted to care about much anymore.

When he groaned in pain again, he thought he heard some movements close by. His eyes shot open when he suddenly felt something wet and cold brush against his hand. He slowly looked down at his hand, let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding when his eyes met the honey colored eyes of Ollie.

Ollie was wagging its tail now, leaning with its head on Arthur's hand, staring at him with big innocent eyes.

“Hey boy..” Arthur murmured, his voice raspy and gruff, his throat dry and raw. How long had he been sleeping?

The dog whined and nuzzled his hand. Arthur chuckled and petted the dog's soft head in response.

“Oh drat! Ollie, give mister Morgan some space.” Arthur heard mister Mason speak up hurriedly.

“..It's okay.” Arthur grunted, he slowly sat up and scratched the dog behind its ear as he watched mister Mason get up, stumble over a piece of cloth that was scattered on the floor. He tumbled face-first into the floor and Arthur couldn't help but raise his brows in surprise at the klutz of a man. He glanced at Ollie, who had made himself comfortable next to him on the bed, the dog looked quite undisturbed, and he could only guess the animal was used to all this.

Mister Mason crawled upright, clutching his heart as he let out a deep breath. 

“..You okay there?” Arthur asked slowly.

“I'm quite alright.. sorry if the dog woke you up..” Mister Mason said, chuckled nervously as he tried to compose himself, pretending like he didn't just fall flat on his face.

“Nah, he didn't wake me.” Arthur’s lips slowly quirked upwards, just for the smallest of seconds. He stroked Ollie over its tummy as the dog rolled over onto its back, revealing the white fur on its belly. Arthur twirled his fingers through the long fur, there were some pieces of leaves and small twigs stuck to the dog's coat, he carefully took them out one by one.

Mister Mason watched him work through the dog's fur. “Normally Ollie isn't all too fond of strangers, but he seems quite fond of you, mister Morgan.” He said.

“Well, he's a good dog.” Arthur gave a small smile as he looked down at the animal who had moved to put its head on his lap, the dog nuzzled the scent gland on his wrist and licked it. Felt like they were sharing information, forming a friendly bond just by the sharing of scents. In a matter of seconds, he and Ollie had formed a companionship, felt like they could trust each other. It was a nice feeling, made his heart flutter and his body tingle at the connection they had formed between them.   
It had always felt incredibly easy to connect with animals in such a way, a lot easier than with humans. It wasn't like he had never made small connections like this with other humans before, he just had a lot more difficulty trusting humans enough to allow them to get close to him. He and John had often shared their scents, when they were still a lot younger, John was still in his early teens and he hadn't been much older than twenty himself, he could still feel the connection between the two of them ever since. 

There also was the bonding thing. But the thought of bonding with someone, that was something else entirely. Bonding was for life. He didn't think he could dedicate himself to someone else for the rest of his life, let himself be claimed and restricted by an alpha. The idea alone, felt claustrophobic. 

He stroked his wrist over Ollie's fur, over its neck and behind its ears, helping the dog get used to his scent. Ollie let out a content sigh and seemed to completely relax, closing its eyes. 

Arthur looked up and saw mister Mason was watching the two of them.

“I've never seen Ollie like this before.” Mister Mason said, a modest smile on his lips as he turned to his small kitchen. He took a cup out of one of the cabinets and filled it with some water.  
Arthur shrugged in response and was handed the cup of water. He took a couple of greedy gulps, the cool water soothing his dry and aching throat.

“Thank you..” He grumbled as he handed the now empty cup back to mister Mason. “Say.. How long I've been sleeping, mister Mason?”

“Hmm I think close to another half a day or so.” He responded as he put the empty cup on the table. He grabbed a bucket of water and also one of the chairs, sat down in front of Arthur, a worried expression crossed over his features. “You must've needed the rest, mister Morgan. Can’t say I blame you. Just look at you, you look like you jumped off a moving train!” He said and paused for a couple of seconds. “You still don't remember what happened to you, do you?”

Arthur gave him a wry look and shook his head in response. “…No, I guess I don't.”

Mister Mason nodded and leaned to his right to rummage through the cupboard of the night stand, took out some medical supplies. “That wound on your leg was awfully dreadful, you know.” He said and chuckled nervously. “I'm glad you were unconscious when I had to pull that piece of wood out of your leg, I nearly fainted myself!”

Arthur grimaced, that was a piece of information he'd rather not hear.

“Can I have a look at your leg?” Mister Mason asked carefully, searching for Arthur's eyes. “… See if it heals right.”

Arthur grumbled, it was as close to a yes he could give mister Mason. He’d rather not have anyone touching him at all, but mister Mason only seemed to want to help him and he didn't want to be rude to the man, even if it made himself uncomfortable.

Mister Mason seemed to have noticed his internal struggle and gave him a grateful nod. He carefully took Arthur's foot in his hands and brought it up to let support it on his knee. Mister Mason was being gentle with him, but Arthur couldn't help the tremble that went through his body. The hands on his ankle and leg reminded him of those awful alphas, those rough hands forcing his legs apart, pulling his clothes off, taking him.. 

He closed his eyes briefly and felt his body tense up. He soon felt the comforting nuzzle of Ollie at his hands. He looked down in the dog's eyes, noticed how the dog was tensing up as well. He willed himself to calm down, tried to ease his muscles as he tried focusing his attention on the animal whose head was still on his lap. It helped calm him down when he started stroking Ollie's coat again.

He glanced back at Mister Mason, the man was being abnormally gentle with him, he wasn't used to an alpha being this gentle and nurturing. He noticed how suddenly mister Mason seemed all calm and collected, no clumsiness to be detected. His hands deft and gentle as he wetted the dressings when the bandages were still stuck to the wound. He eventually was able to take the bandages off, revealing a nasty looking wound.

There was a bit of a gap in his leg and the wound was leaking a yellowish, almost greenish fluid. The skin around it was swollen and inflamed. It didn't look quite right to be honest.  
He glanced up at mister Mason, saw his brows narrow into a worried frown.

“I'll have to clean it thoroughly..” He said slowly, meeting Arthur's eyes. “You might want to lie back down, mister Morgan. This won't be pleasant..”

“I rather do it myself.” Arthur grunted quickly in response, he had had more than enough of anyone touching him at the moment. The prospect of treating the wound himself, didn't feel all that tempting, but he already had more than enough of anyone's hands on his body. 

“Oh nonsense, look at you, you can barely sit upright!”

Arthur grabbed mister Mason's hand when he reached for his leg again. “I rather do it myself, mister Mason.” He growled, this time in a warning voice. He knew he wasn't being quite fair with the other man, but at the moment he wasn't in complete control of himself either.

Mister Mason let go of him almost instantly. “I see.” He chuckled nervously. “I am sorry, I am overstepping boundaries.” He bowed his head.

Arthur quickly let go of mister Mason's hand as well. “…Nah, mister Mason.. uhh.. I'm sorry.” He grunted and ran a hand through his hair. “I should have been a bit more tactful.. you only want to help.” He sat still, tried to not look up and meet the other man's eyes. 

“It's just.. I'm done with people touching me..” He confessed.

“Oh..” Mister Mason responded, looking a bit awkward, he fumbled with the clean bandages in his hands. “..You want to talk about it?” He said eventually.

“No, I rather not.”

Mister Mason nodded quietly and handed him the clean bandages. Arthur nodded gratefully and took them from him. He slowly eased his leg off the other man's knee and lifted it up on the bed, unfortunately he had to disturb Ollie and had to usher its head off his lap. The animal was getting a bit too interested in the gaping wound anyway, Arthur was quite sure letting the dog lick it clean wasn't a good idea.

Mister Mason handed him a clean wet towel. “I cooked the towels and bandages, they should be sterile enough..”

Arthur nodded his head in appreciation. Though when he moved to clean the wound, he was starting to regret his decision. He was starting to feel lightheaded already, but he carried on anyway. Wiping the wound clean with the towel, gritting his teeth in pain as he did so. His vision was swirling around him and eventually he had to take a short break before continuing. He leaned back against the wall, raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh, feeling weak and terrible.

“You look awfully pale, mister Morgan..” Mister Mason said carefully. “If you want, I can clean the rest of the wound, dress it all up for you.”

Arthur grunted in response, bothered by the weak state he was in, couldn't even take care of himself. It was pathetic really. But he felt the need to accept, he just didn't have the energy, it was hard to even sit upright. Though the thought of having someone's hands on him at the moment, it made his skin crawl. He glanced at mister Mason. So far he had already given the man quite some of his trust and so far mister Mason hadn't taken advantage of his trust. There was something about the man. Seemed like he wouldn't even swat a fly. With mister Mason it was as if he was allowed to take some rest, as if he was allowed to feel exhausted and unwell. It was a strange feeling, not having someone want something from him, in need of him, rely and depend on him. For once he felt like he could focus in on himself, even if it was somewhat confronting and uncomfortable.  
Well, maybe he'd rather not focus on himself after all. Nothing good would come out of it, nothing but more mental pain.

“Sure..” He grunted eventually, making up his mind.

“Thank you, good sir!” Mister Mason smiled and Arthur couldn't quite fathom what the other man was thankful for. For giving his trust?

“Maybe you should lie down.” Mister Mason said as he gave Arthur a worried look. He must be looking like shit for the other man to be giving him such a stare.

“I'm fine.” Arthur grunted and fully leaned into the wall behind him, Ollie curling up next to him. He looked up and gritted his teeth, bracing himself for the upcoming pain.

“Okay..” Mister Mason said almost hesitantly as he gathered the supplies. “Just warn me when you need a breather..” He chuckled nervously as he grabbed a piece of cloth and dipped it in the bucket of warm water.

Arthur just nodded, started stroking Ollie's fur to distract himself.

He couldn't help but let out a small groan of pain when mister Mason started cleaning the gaping wound. The pain was even worse when someone else did it. At least he knew what to somewhat expect when he did it himself. It didn't take very long, but it felt like ages until mister Mason finally finished cleaning the yellow gunk away from the wound.

“I'll have to use some alcohol.. so this might sting…” Mister Mason warned him with a nervous laugh as he took out a bottle with a dark blue liquid in it. “Got some of the uhh.. local Moonshine… thought they called it Midnight Moonshine or something.” He took a whiff of the alcohol and scrunched up his nose at the pungent smell. "Smells about stromg enough." He grimaced.

Arthur glanced at him, looking very much intrigued. “..Can I have some?” He quipped. “You know, to help take the edge off the pain..”

Mister Mason looked hesitant, but handed him the bottle.

Arthur glanced at the dark blue beverage, hadn't seen a shine like this before. He sniffed, it smelled somewhat sweet, combined with that familiar pungent, strong smell of alcohol. He took a large swig, felt the alcohol burn down his throat, leaving his mouth and head with an almost unbearable tingling sensation. The stuff was strong, real strong. And it was just what he needed.

“Blueberry?” Arthur asked with a grunt.

“Huh?” Mister Mason said.

“This moonshine, is it called Midnight moonshine cause of the blueberries in it?”

“I wouldn't know, good sir, I really haven't the slightest of clues! I don't drink such beverages, poisons the mind, you know.” Mister Mason said as he swiftly took the bottle back from Arthur. Arthur tried to protest, grasped at the bottle, but failed. “I got it from some men, some locals who often go into these woods.” Mister Mason continued, looking unfazed by Arthur's disgruntled stare. “I dropped by them once and they offered me a bottle in exchange of a photo taken of them. Of course I couldn't refuse!” Mister Mason gave a thoughtful look. “..They also looked quite dangerous.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “But I can put it to good use now!”

Arthur gave him a long look. “You gonna pour that blue stuff on my leg then?”

“No, my good sir!” Mister Mason said with that silly voice of his. “I'm going to ‘dapple’ it!” He poured a generous amount of the blue alcohol on a clean cloth. Before Arthur had time to protest, he started to ‘dapple' the blue liquid on the wound.

“Goddamn!” Arthur hissed out in pain, he pulled his leg back and his body went rigid from the intense stinging sensation. “You son of a bitch!” He gritted his teeth and pressed his lips tightly shut, his nostrils flaring as he breathed hard through his nose.

“Oh, my apologies, mister Morgan. What a buffoon I am.” Mister Mason said, but Arthur thought the chuckle in his voice sounded a little bit too teasing to his liking.

“Just warn me next time..” Arthur grumbled and gave him a hard stare, but eventually relented. He didn't have the energy to complain. Besides, mister Mason was still trying to help.

Mister Mason nodded. “I'm not finished yet, so please do brace yourself..” He carefully took Arthur's leg and started dappling the alcohol again. Arthur let out a low growl of pain, clenched his fingers into the blanket underneath him, but stayed still for the rest of the treatment. He felt absolutely exhausted when mister Mason was finally done sterilizing the wound, felt himself doze off when the other man wrapped the clean bandages around his leg. 

He absentmindedly noticed how mister Mason's hands wandered down when he finished wrapping the wound up, noticed how the other man started kneading and massaging his foot. It felt nice and relaxing and he barely noticed the way his muscles started to ease up, how he was starting to relax more and more until he could barely comprehend anything around him. A soft sound emitted from his throat, something that reminded him of the sound of a purring cat. He shot upright when he realized.

He was purring.

He was purring like a goddamn cat.


	16. Chapter 16

Thankfully mister Mason had been real nice about it, probably had noticed his embarrassment and horror when he had realized he was purring. Mister Mason just smiled, didn't mention it and went to put a kettle of water on the fire. Arthur watched him move around the cabin, watched him as he stumbled yet again over the same piece of cloth and Arthur couldn't help but wonder how in the Hell that man had gotten him to purr. He couldn't even recall the last time he had purred. Probably when he was a young boy, when his mother was still alive.

He sighed as he scrubbed his hand across his face. He shifted on the bed and grimaced, noted he really needed to take a piss. 

Mister Mason seemed to immediately catch on to his discomfort. “What's the matter, mister Morgan?” He asked. “Is there something you need? Maybe something to eat?”

“No, I uhh.. really need to take a piss..” Arthur grunted, looking a bit bashful and embarrassed. 

“Ooh!” Mister Mason started to look a bit embarrassed himself. “Oh uh.. but of course! I uhhh… maybe I can give you a pot or something and then uhh.. you can do your thing? If that's alright with you?”

Arthur grunted, he wanted to protest, but he knew his body all too well, wouldn't do him any good to force himself on his legs and go outside for a goddamn piss. He gave a simple nod, trying to look calm about it.

Mister Mason started rummaging through the cabinet in his small kitchen. Pulled out an old looking teapot, not the fancy kind of old looking though. He came over and handed it to him.

Arthur grunted his thanks and waited for the other man to turn away. He sat upright and pulled himself out of his pants, letting out a small sigh of relief when he was finally able to empty his bladder. He grimaced at the sound of his piss hitting the porcelain, the sound felt way too loud in the quietness of the small cabin. When he finished, he quickly tucked himself back into his pants, let out an awkward cough. Pissing in a teapot, he guessed there was always a first time for everything.

Mister Mason turned back to him and took the teapot from his hands. He didn't utter a word, not even a teasing smile, and Arthur couldn't help but be grateful about it.

Mister Mason carried on like he wasn't holding a pot of piss. “I just found a patch of lemon balm this morning,” He said as he opened the door to put the old teapot outside. “-it's a marvelous herb to make tea of. I am quite positive you'll like it!”

“I probably will.. I rather have that lemon balm tea of yours, than the ‘tea' I just made..” Arthur grunted dryly.

Mister Mason let out a hearty laugh and Arthur couldn't help how his own lips slowly quirked upwards, almost unnoticeably so. He looked back to mister Mason, watched as the other man worked through his small kitchen, grabbing two cups and pulling off the leaves of the lemon balm plant. Arthur let himself lean back against the wall behind him, with his left hand he searched for the dog who was still lying next to him, curled his fingers through its long fur. Felt himself starting to doze off.

He was brought back to reality when he thought he heard the sound of hooves coming from outside the cabin. He glanced at the direction the sound was coming from, suddenly feeling on high alert. He wasn't quite sure if he heard right, the sound had been barely hearable over the loud pitter-patter of the rain. Sitting up straight, his heart started to hammer in his chest, his ears perked for any other sounds, was there someone outside the cabin?

Mister Mason caught on to his sudden unease almost immediately. “What's wrong, mister Morgan?” He let out a nervous laugh, starting to look anxious himself.

“…I think I heard something outside.” Arthur growled in response.

Mister Mason gave him a look before letting out another nervous chuckle. He seemed to hesitate for a second before slowly crouching and stepping up to the window, peeking through. “..I.. uhh can't see anything..” He said slowly, a bit nervous. “Not yet anyway..”

Arthur grimaced. It didn't mean a thing of course.

There was a snap of a twig and the sound startled him, made his skin crawl. He shared a look with mister Mason. There really was someone out there.

“Give me my guns.” Arthur hissed at Albert in a low whisper. He slung his legs over the bedside, pushing the blanket off his lap. Ollie jumped off the bed as well, let out a low whine.

Mister Mason nodded and quickly hurried over to where he had placed the weapons, meanwhile Arthur spotted the fancy gray pants he had been wearing on the train, slung over a chair near his bed. The pants had been washed, but the end of the leg seemed ruined, probably by the stick that had ruined his own leg as well. He was handed the gun belt by mister Mason, and Arthur couldn't help but grimace when he saw the state his guns were in from the river water. They looked to be in terrible condition, full of mud and water, really needed a thorough cleaning, not that he had the time at the moment. He cursed under his breath, took the gun that seemed to have taken the least damage, seemed like mister Cullen's gun was the only contender. He took the familiar weight of the gun in his hand and slowly stood on sore, shaking legs. He took a couple of weak steps and flopped down in the chair again, slipping the pants on  
His ears perked when he thought he thought he heard a soft whinny, almost weak sounding. He glanced at the door and when he heard it again, he stood up again, this time a lot straighter. 

He recognized that whinny.

Just at that moment, mister Mason spoke up. “There's a horse! Saddled… but no rider.” He was silent for a couple of seconds as he studied the animal through the window. “Good heavens! The poor animal! It seems to be injured!”

Arthur groaned in pain as he stumbled over to mister Mason's side, tried to not put too much weight on his bad leg. He looked through the window and saw what he was hoping for, but also what he was fearing for. 

It was Avalon.

He didn't think, he dropped his gun and burst through the front door, a wave of adrenaline rushed through his body, made him half run outside and into the pouring rain, made him want to run over to his horse. But his leg couldn't keep up with him, it caved in and he collapsed onto the cold wet muddy ground.

He heard a soft neigh and looked up into Avalon's pained and stressed eyes, rain relentlessly beating down on the both of them. Within seconds, he was soaked to the bone.

The horse took a pained tentative step towards him and leaned down with its head, sniffing his head, its hot breath warm on Arthur's wet and cold skin. The animal nudged him, maybe a bit too harshly, but Arthur could forgive the animal for that. 

“…Hey boy..” Arthur said in a soft voice. “You're alright, boy..”

He could see the whites of Avalon's eyes, his coat soaked in white patches of sweat, how his nostrils flared with every breath he took. He grimaced when he saw the dark trickle of blood going down the horse's back leg. Avalon was in pain, that much was obvious. And it was all because of him.  
The horse had made an extreme effort of getting back to him. Made him feel guilty towards the poor loyal animal. Made him feel guilty he hadn't done the same thing for him.

A couple of soft footsteps behind him, barely hearable in the loud rain, made him look away from the horse's eyes. 

“I.. uhh.. presume this is your horse..” Mister Mason spoke up carefully.

“It is..” Arthur grunted as he stroked the horse's soft pink nose. “…His name is Avalon.”

Mister Mason stayed silent for a couple of long seconds, heard him shuffle behind him. “Come on then, let's get him inside.”

………………………………..

Arthur watched as mister Mason treated the wound on Avalon’s hind leg. He was sitting on a small wooden stool, Avalon's reins in his hands, feeling helpless and frustrated. He had wanted to help the animal himself, but he hadn't been able to stand for much longer than a minute. He was just too goddamn weak. A helpless fool.

Avalon was hurt because of him and he couldn't even treat his own damn horse himself. Such a goddamn helpless weakling he was.

He felt guilty towards Avalon, guilty towards mister Mason. The other man should not have to do deal with all this for him. He didn't even know him. Why he did it anyway? He had no idea.

He glanced down at Ollie lying on his bare feet, keeping at least some part of him warm. He curled his toes in the straw, it prickled and felt rough on his skin, but felt somewhat comforting and warm as well. He shivered again when a cool breeze ran through the drafty small shed, his rain-drenched clothes sticking onto his skin, made him feel as if he were sitting in a glacial river.

“..How is he?” Arthur asked as he tried to distract himself from the cold, shifting the reins in one hand to rub his face, feeling dreadfully tired yet again. He glanced down at his mud-covered soaked pants and grimaced, knew the wound probably would have to get redressed again since the bandages underneath it seemed to be drenched as well.

Mister Mason paused in his ministrations, glanced at Arthur. “Fortunately, the bullet went through his leg… it seems no big arteries were hit..” He half mumbled and went back to cleaning the last bit of the wound. He paused again, looked down at his hands, covered in blood. “..I'll never understand mankind.. to be wanting to hurt such beautiful creatures?” He looked incredibly solemn when he said that. 

Arthur stayed quiet, felt that gut wrenching guilt again. Felt like he had pulled the damn trigger himself.

“He'll survive..” Mister Mason continued. “Though I'm not quite so sure if it will heal up quite right.. Nerves and muscles might be damaged...” He said as he stroked the horse's back. Avalon didn't trust a lot of people, but he seemed to tolerate mister Mason rather well.

“Thought as much..” Arthur grunted, sighed and shook his head, running a hand through his damp hair, though he rather wanted to pull at his hair. A crippled horse was as good as a dead horse.. and after losing Boadicea, he didn't want to think about losing another horse already.

“Mister Morgan..” Mister Mason said, taking a small jar, he carefully started to lather the wound with some salve, shushing and calming Avalon when the horse raised his hind leg in distress. Arthur stroked the horse's nose and cheeks, breathing soft soothing words only Avalon would be able to hear. He glanced at mister Mason, giving him his attention as he continued stroking the horse over its blaze.

Mister Mason leaned down to wash his bloody hands in the bucket of water, a frown marring his face. “..I uh know it is none of my business.” He said a bit hesitantly. “But.. your horse got shot, you got injured, almost drowned in that river, you're covered in old injuries as well..” He paused and swallowed thickly, and Arthur had the idea he wasn't going to like where he was going. 

“..Are you sure you don't remember anything? Is there maybe someone who’s looking for you? Someone I have to contact for you? …Maybe someone you don't want to.. return to?”

“You're right, it's none of your goddamn business..” Arthur growled back at him, feeling bad almost instantly when he saw mister Mason give a hurried nod and turn back to Avalon. He sighed and scrubbed his hand across his face. “..Look.. I'm sorry.” He grunted. “I shouldn't be snapping at you.. you're just trying to help.”

“I understand.. I’m sorry, I was being awfully rude.” Mister Mason chuckled nervoudly as he wiped his hands dry with a towel. “You probably don't know what happened.. And me asking again must be frustrating to you.”

“I DO know what happened… mister Mason.” Arthur grunted, his tone awfully serious, his eyes meeting with the other man's. “I just rather not talk about it.”

“Oh..”

Arthur sighed again, he knew his explanation was awful and didn't help one bit to ease the tense and awkward atmosphere around them. Mister Mason deserved to get some kind of explanation or at least an apology.

“Look.. I'm sorry..” He tried again. “It's just.. complicated, I guess.”

“It's alright, mister Morgan. You've probably been through a lot.. I should've been more considerate. I feel like such a dimwit!” Mister Mason gave him an apologetic look.

“You ain't no dimwit, mister Mason. A bit silly.. yes. But dumb, nah I don't think so.” Arthur gave a small chuckle as he fumbled with the bridle, undid the straps and slipped it off Avalon’s head, let the horse roam free through its small stable. He watched with a frown when he saw Avalon stumble.

“I'm glad you find me entertaining, good sir.” Mister Mason laughed dryly as he packed his things up.

Arthur let out a wry chuckle, watched how Avalon took notice of mister Mason's horse, Herbert his name was. The flaxen chestnut Morgan had been curiously watching them ever since they stepped into the small shed. The horses sniffed and blew small puffs of air up each other's nostrils. Amazingly enough they seemed to rather like each other within seconds, no loud offended neighs or the stomping of front feet. Seemed like Herbert was just like his owner. Easy to like.

Suddenly he felt a warm blanket being draped around his shoulders, it smelled of horse and some dark brown hairs tickled his nose when he pushed his face into the fabric. The scent comforted him, it was Avalon's saddle blanket, warm and familiar. He glanced up at mister Mason and nodded his thanks.

“Let's get you inside.” Mister Mason said. “You look awfully pale, mister Morgan.”

Arthur grunted in response and Mister Mason held out a hand to help him get up on his feet. He stubbornly didn't take it and slowly stood up himself, almost falling forwards as he did so. He grumbled when he heard the soft chuckle at his side, tried to ignore it as he pulled the blanket over his and mister Mason's head as well. The other man's brows raised in surprise, but he understood the hint as they treaded outside and into the harsh rain.

The walk back to the cabin was short, but felt like he had to walk for miles. His body had a lot of difficulty to find the energy for the short walk, the shooting pain in his leg didn't help much either. He noticed how he slightly had to lean against mister Mason's side for support, but also to keep the blanket covered over their heads. Ollie ran ahead of them while the rain poured down, fortunately the blanket was able to withstand it for the short walk to the cabin. His bare feet squelched in the mud and he glanced at his surroundings from underneath the blanket. Tall dark pine trees towered around them, he couldn't see much else as the rain in his eyes blurred his vision. It was getting darker, but he wasn't even sure if it was because of the setting sun or the weather getting worse.

They stepped up the front porch and into the warmth of the cabin, Arthur let himself be led to the fireplace, which had died down quite a bit in their absence. Mister Mason hurried over to the comfy chair in the other corner of the room and dragged it to the fireplace, motioning for Arthur to sit down.

“You don't have to put up this much of an effort for me, mister Mason.. I'm hardly worth the trouble.” Arthur grunted, almost getting shoved down in the chair by the other man.

“Don't be foolish, dear sir! This is hardly any effort!” Mister Mason chuckled, gathering the blankets of Arthur's bed, he went back to the other and replaced the wet saddle blanket with the dry ones. He crouched next to the fireplace and took a couple of dry logs, put them on the smoldering embers. The fire awakened not long after and Arthur stuck his feet out from underneath the blanket, warming his freezing feet, letting out a small sigh when the comfortable warmth started to envelop him. He watched mister Mason check the forgotten kettle next to the fire, looking on amused when he saw the other burn his finger on it when he checked the temperature. The man hissed and put his finger into his mouth, muttering some insults towards himself. Arthur couldn't help but shake his head, his lips slightly quirking upwards.

“Say mister Mason, where are you sleeping anyway?” Arthur asked with a grunt, burying his face in the blanket, watching how Ollie laid down next to his feet.

Mister Mason turned to look at him over his shoulder, he took his finger out of his mouth and gingerly rubbed it. “Oh, on that chair you're sitting on.” He saw Arthur's expression turn apologetic. “Ah, don't worry, mister Morgan. It's quite comfortable!” He turned back to the kettle and wrapped his sleeve around his hand, took the kettle and put in on the small kitchen counter. “Now where was I? …Ah yes! I promised you some of that lemon balm tea!” He grabbed the herbs and put them in the kettle.

“Mister Mason..” Arthur grunted as the other man turned to look at him again. “I.. uhh.. wanted to thank you for treating Avalon… And this ol’ grumpy fool as well of course.. sorry for being such a nuisance..” he scratched the back of his head, not used to being in such a position. He was normally the one helping others out, but the last couple of weeks it seemed like it had turned the other way round.

“Oh, no worries, mister Morgan!” Mister Mason chuckled. “You're hardly a nuisance!” Arthur knew that wasn't quite true. “Besides, I enjoy the company. I hardly get any here in the middle of this dense forest.” He poured two cups and turned back to Arthur to hand him his cup. “Do you need a set of dry clothes?” He asked when he noticed the small tremble in the other man's hand when he reached out to take the cup.

“Nah, it's fine. The fire will warm me.” Arthur grunted and cradled the warm cup in his cold hands.

Mister Mason nodded and sat down in the wooden chair next to him, blowing on the hot tea to cool it down.

“You know.. my apologies if I seem a bit silly and strange..” Mister Mason spoke up after a short moment of staring into the fire. “It's been a while since I uhh had the pleasure to talk with someone but myself or Ollie.” He said as he took a small sip from his tea. “I uhh.. also never really know how to deal with myself when around a...” He hesitated for a second and hurriedly pointed a finger towards Arthur while looking at anywhere else but him. “-you know..”

“..Me?” Arthur raised his brows.

“N-not specifically you!” Mister Mason stuttered. “Just.. you know.. omegas, especially the uhh.. unbonded ones…”

“Oh.” Arthur said slowly, didn't really know what to say. “Sorry?”

“No no, you can't help it of course, I'm just being silly!”

“..I must say I don't deal well with alphas either.” He saw mister Mason's face turn into a troubled look. “But you're okay, mister Mason!” He said quickly, holding his hands up. “Nah, you're nothing like the alphas I've met before.”

“Ah yes, of course. That's what I meant when I said I'm a bit silly.” Mister Mason chuckled. “..I have no idea how to act naturally around an omega, I'm no way as strong and confident like an alpha should be.”

“Nah, you're just you.. thankfully.” Arthur grunted and took a sip of the tea as well, it was quite nice actually, sweet and strong, with a hint of lemon and mint.

“Wish my dear mother thought the same way.” Mister Mason chuckled, but he looked wry about it.

“She ain't?” Arthur asked, raising a brow.

“No, I am afraid not.” Mister Mason said, taking another sip of his tea. “Not too fond of me sitting in this cabin making ‘silly pictures' either.” He sighed and ran a hand through his beard, looking troubled. “She expected me to take over the family business, find a nice omega to bond with and give her many many grandchildren.” Mister Mason let out a wry laugh. “Me? Owning some big weaving factory? Good Heavens no!”

Arthur gave a small smile as he watched the man silently, looked down at the drink in his hands. He could respect mister Mason's ideals, at least he lived a free life, not the life chosen for him. Mister Mason had had a taste of wealth, but still he seemed content in this small cozy cabin in the middle of the woods. Ever since he had joined Dutch’s gang, his life had been all about getting money into their hands. He always thought, having money would make him happy, would make all his pain and troubles go away. And he was starting to doubt that, more and more often. The omegas on the train didn't seem all that happy in their gilded cages and mister Mason didn't mind leaving his life of luxury behind.

Getting rich. Right now. It seemed like such a childish goal. 

Arthur glanced sideways again at mister Mason, the other seemed to be in deep thought. 

“You know.. I ran from an alpha..” He found himself saying all of a sudden and mister Mason gave him a somewhat startled look. “Jumped off a damn train to get away.” He grunted, staring back into the fire.

“Come again?” Mister Mason raised his brows in surprise. “You jumped.. off a train? A moving train?” He almost dropped his cup of tea, his mouth gaping like a fish.

Arthur gave a small nod. “I jumped in that river when the train passed it.” He said simply.

“Good Heavens, that's miles away from here!” Mister Mason looked mortified. “How did you even survive such a jump? How did you even survive in such a strong current for that long?”

Arthur shrugged. “Strong bones?”

Mister Mason was still gaping at him. 

Arthur didn't quite understand, jumping off a moving train and into a wild river felt like an everyday job to him. It wasn't that strange, right?

“Were you on that train to Applebridge?” Mister Mason found his voice again, blinking slowly. “You must've been. Wearing those fancy clothes and all.”

Arthur hummed in response and nodded, taking a sip of his cooling tea.

He looked at mister Mason again, their eyes meeting. “Just.. uhh.. keep this between us, mister Mason.. if that alpha catches word of me, I'm done for.”

“You have my word!” Mister Mason exclaimed. “And I’m unbelievably thankful for you giving me your trust, mister Morgan.” He smiled that pleasant smile of his.

Arthur shrugged and scratched his head, a small uncomfortable smile on his own lips. “It’s nothin'..” He mumbled, a bit embarrassed and uncomfortable. “But please, just call me Arthur.”

“Ah yes, Arthur! No more formalities! Just call me Albert from now on.”

“Sure.” Arthur grunted, nodding slowly. “Albert..” Saw the way Albert smiled at him when he said his name.

He looked back down at the cup in his hand, saw it was almost empty. He didn't even have to utter a word and Albert was already next to him with the kettle of tea, offering to refill his cup.

So far it didn't feel like Albert wanted anything from him and it felt strange. Everything about the other man somehow felt sincere to him. Ever since that incident weeks ago, his senses had been on high alert, he had felt so extremely tense and restless. But he hadn't really felt as panicky in this small and cozy cabin, hadn't felt that panic with Albert. The only alpha he had felt he could trust before Albert, was John.

Immediately he felt that gut-wrenching guilt again when he thought about John. He had almost forgotten about him, while he should be out searching for him, see if he was alright. Maybe John and the rest needed his help and he was here sitting on his goddamn lazy ass like some weak fool.  
But he knew he wouldn't be of much help, he was completely useless as he was right now. Physically and mentally 

He just hoped Dutch and the rest had made it out okay. He hoped they were back safe at camp. 

He just hoped John was okay.

………………………………….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick. Again. For a week already. So I'm sorry this upload took me a bit longer. I did my best, but I don't really like this chapter. Every word felt like a struggle.
> 
> Enough about my complaining. Merry Christmas, you fine people!


	17. Chapter 17

He just hoped Arthur was okay.

It was still dark, early in the morning when he took Old boy's tack and silently saddled his horse. It had taken him two days, but he was feeling a lot better now. He had tried to go out before, but he had been easily stopped by several gang members cause of the weak state he had been in. But they wouldn't stop him now. His condition was almost back to normal, he was able to walk in a straight line again and the painful throbbing in his head had diminished significantly. He was still feeling dizzy whenever he moved too fast, but all in all his condition was good enough to go out and search for his brother.

He gritted his teeth in anger when he cinched the saddle, he just couldn't fathom why Dutch still hadn't sent out a rescue party. What the Hell was wrong with that goddamn man? He was constantly chasing after Arthur, demanding his affection, and now he just didn't do anything. Said he had a plan to get Arthur out, but how could he even form a plan if he didn't even know where Arthur was?

He just couldn't understand.

“John..?”

He straightened his back when he heard her voice.

“Abigail…” He grunted slowly and sighed, pressing his forehead against the saddle.

“You was gonna leave without telling me?” She said, he could already tell her brows were furrowing into a deep frown.

“No..?” He said slowly and turned to look at her.

She started hitting him in the chest. “You think I'm dumb, John Marston? You goddamn fool of a man!”

He grabbed her shoulders and she halted in her hitting him. “Look, I'm sorry Abigail.” He hushed her, tried to calm her or else she might wake the rest of the camp up. “But you would try and stop me.”

“Of course I would, you stubborn fool!” She pushed him. “You should be in bed, you need rest, John!”

“Abigail.” He said slowly and took her in his arms, he nuzzled the mark on her neck and he felt her calm down a bit. “I just need to find Arthur, someone should.” He grunted, his lips brushing over the soft skin of her neck.

Abigail looked up at him. “…You don't know yet," she mumbled. "-but Charles went out yesterday morning, has been out searchin’ for him.” She said. “He went to that town, Applebridge, I think it was called.. still hasn't returned.”

“He did?” John raised his brows in surprise. He only just now realized he hadn't seen much of Charles the last few days. “Why didn't anyone tell me?” He growled at her.

“Dutch send him to search for Arthur..” She said slowly. “But it isn't a rescue party.”

John growled again, at least it was something, he was surprised Dutch sent someone at all.

“What the Hell is wrong with Dutch anyway, why is it so goddamn difficult to just send a couple of our men and get Arthur out of wherever he is?” He said as he let go off Abigail and turned back to his horse to tighten the cinch of the saddle, Old boy let out a snort in protest.

“I don't know..” Abigail said carefully, glancing at Dutch's tent. “We tried reasoning with him, but even Hosea can't get through to him, ‘s like he doesn't even want to acknowledge Arthur's away..”

John let out an annoyed huff.

Abigail grabbed his upper arm, this time a bit more gently. “John, just let Charles deal with this, please..”

“You know I can't do that, Abigail.” He grunted and turned back to her. “He's my brother.. You know he'd do the same for me. You know that I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him.”

For once Abigail stayed silent, she let go of his arm and looked away, her face full of worry and dread as she crossed her arms, looking uncertain about everything. John could feel her unease, her worry, all her troubles and inner turmoil, but he couldn't give in to his instincts to stay with his mate. Instead he wrapped his strong arms around her and hugged her tight. Running a hand through her dark hair, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers in a sweet but short kiss. He savored it, didn't know how long he would be away from her this time.  
He broke away from the kiss and turned to Old boy and untied the reins. He gave her one more swift peck on the lips before lifting himself up in the saddle.

“Just try and find Charles… he might still be in that town.” She looked up at him, that troubled look still marring her face. “I'll feel a whole lot better knowing you're not doing this on your own, you hear me, John Marston?”

“Yeah, I hear ye.” John grunted. “Just uhh.. take care of yourself, also Jack..” He glanced at their tent before steering Old boy away from her, spurred the horse on in swift gallop.

She nodded, knowing John wouldn't see it anyway. “Just stay safe, John...” She said softly as she watched him leave the campsite and gallop into the darkness of the trees that surrounded the camp, always feeling uncertain if he would be returning back to her in one piece.

………………………………………….

The pine trees were tall and looming over them as they threaded through the dark forest not far from Albert’s cabin. He couldn't see much further then the trees close to him cause of the fine mist that veiled along the tree trunks, the morning sunrays slipping through and hiding the rest of the forest from his sight. It had finally stopped raining and Arthur had decided to join Albert to go outside on a short morning stroll, picking herbs or whatever as they went. He didn't really care what they were going to do, he just wanted to be out of those four confining walls. At this point he was desperate enough to even accept the worst of chores. 

Albert hadn't complained or fussed over him, hadn't told him he needed more rest. No, instead he had told him it was a ‘splendid’ idea, in that jolly voice of his. The other man had even helped him by finding him a strong stick to lean his weight on while his leg was still healing. Had agreed the fresh morning air would do him good as long as he wouldn't overdo it.

So here he was, slowly wobbling behind Albert, trying to keep up, his leg throbbing painfully and sweat starting to trickle down the side of his face even though the morning air was crisp and cool. They had only walked for less than five minutes. It was pathetic how weak his body had gotten. But he was still able to enjoy the nature around him as he followed down the needle covered path, the gentle song of a scarlet tanager songbird above them, the scents of damp moss, wet tree trunks, damp earth combined with fallen pine needles and leaves. The earthy smell of the forest did its best to sooth and calm him. Though he still got this uneasy and paranoid feeling whenever he went through the depths of a forest, made him think of that night when those alphas chased him down.. chased him down for fun. He shuddered at the thought and looked behind over his shoulder, just to make sure..

“You look awfully pale, Arthur.” He suddenly heard Albert say and he turned back to look at the other man in front of him. Albert had halted and had taken a couple of steps towards him, a worried look crossing over his features.

“I'm fine..” He grunted as he halted as well and leaned on his stick. “Just a bit tired.. that's all.” He confessed, it felt strange to admit he wasn't in shape.

“Let's take a little rest, the scenery is rather beautiful in this particular area.” Albert sat down on an old tree stump and patted the empty spot next to him. “Come, sit. I have some goat cheese, I made it myself.” He said, looking a bit proud of himself as he started rummaging through the large leather bag he had slung over his shoulder.

Arthur nodded slowly and looked down at the tree stump, the smell suggesting it was already creating new life, an earthy, sweet and a bit of a moldy smell. He saw fungus growing on the side and a black beetle hurriedly crawled away from where Albert had plopped down. 

He decided to not be stubborn and protest, sat down next to the other, wiping the cold sweat from his brows as he carefully stretched his painful leg. His body always healed up rather fast, most of the bruises were turning into a green and yellowish hue and the shallow cuts and wounds were closing up rather well. His broken ribs would need some more time and the gaping wound on his leg as well. But he had gone through worse, a lot worse, hadn't felt that weak back then though. He just couldn't find the energy anymore, always feeling exhausted, always feeling uneasy. He somehow had the feeling his mental instability had something to do with it, but he couldn't quite accept it, so he decided he found it easier to blame his aging body.

Albert handed him a small wedge of cheese and he uttered a grateful grunt. He looked at the white cheese in his hands, had been a while since he had eaten goat cheese. Taking a bite, he enjoyed the tangy and salty taste of it. He glanced around them and noticed the mist was clearing ever so slightly, enough to reveal more of the forest. It indeed was a beautiful spot Albert had picked out, sitting on that old tree stump, tall moss covered trees all around them, sun shimmering through the mist and dense pine trees. It reminded him of those brothers Grimm tales his mother always told him before he went to sleep as a young boy. Forests like these reminded him of the forests he imagined when he heard those stories as a kid, gave him a nostalgic feeling. Unsettling, but also comforting.

He heard some rustling behind them. Panic took over almost immediately and he quickly turned, his heart hammering in his chest as his hand went down to grab at the knife in his holster. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when Ollie appeared behind them, a large stick in his mouth, his tail wagging happily. The animal had scurried off a few minutes ago, most probably caught the scent of a rabbit.

He let go off the knife and cursed under his breath, stuffing the rest of the cheese into his mouth. He watched how Ollie dropped the stick at his feet, giving him an expectant look. He grumbled and leaned down to take the stick, threw it as far away as he possibly could. When he looked to the side he caught Albert staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face, the other man quickly looked away and started fussing with something in that large leather bag of his.

Albert took out a big square wooden box, it looked like a camera, reminded him a bit of his own, although his was still back at camp, this one looked a bit more advanced than his own camera as well. He watched as Albert put the camera on his lap and started tinkering with a couple of mechanics.

“You took your camera along with you.. you planning on taking some pictures?” Arthur grunted as he looked at Albert's hands working on the piece of technology, amazed how all the clumsiness had gone, replaced by deft fingers working in total precision. 

“But of course I brought it along! I almost never leave without my camera, who knows what we might come across!” Albert exclaimed as he took out the lens, held it up in the air to look through it. “It would be a big wish of mine to make a photo of a beautiful grizzly one day, such fine and beautiful creatures!” He said as he started cleaning the lens with a small piece of cloth, a bit of a dreamy look on his face.

Arthur raised a brow in disbelief. “..A Grizzly? You crazy? We talking 'bout the same animal?” He stared at the other, gave him an incredulous look. “I don't think you would be dreamin' about such a thing if you met one in real life.. nasty creatures they are.” He grumbled as he relived a flashback of being chased by an angry momma bear.

“Oh nonsense Arthur, they're just misunderstood.”

“Misunderstood?” Arthur chuckled, shook his head and scratched the back of his head in disbelief, saw Ollie running over to him with the stick. “More like angry and vile they are.”

“Okay, so they're a bit foul sometimes,” Albert mumbled as he tweaked a screw at the side of the box. “-but surely you must see the beauty in them as well?”

“Sure..” Arthur grunted as he took the stick Ollie offered him again. “..when they're stuffed and stuck to a pedestal..” He threw the stick with a mighty swing, Ollie scurrying after it with an excited bark.

“Arthur!” Albert gave him a shocked look. “I reckon you're more vile than those bears!” He finished tweaking the camera, stood up and went to stand a couple of feet away from Arthur, aiming the camera at him. 

“Behold! Nature's biggest predator!” Albert exclaimed dramatically. “The omega!” There was a bright flash and a loud clicking noise was heard.

Arthur chuckled and shook his head.

Albert chuckled as well and put the camera back into his bag. “You up for the rest of the walk?” Albert asked carefully, studying Arthur and offering his hand to help him stand up.

“Sure.” Arthur grunted, hesitated for a short second before taking the offered hand.

The rest of the walk went without trouble, Arthur having to throw Ollie's stick a couple of more times and having a short rest leaning against a tree to catch his breath. Albert hadn't managed to find any herbs, the whole reason they had went on the walk. It didn't matter much, Arthur had the feeling Albert had said it as an excuse anyway. 

The sun was rising further up the horizon and the mist was starting to clear, revealing the rest of the lush green forest, he could see Albert's cabin appear behind tall trees as they came closer. The cabin stood in a small grass and moss covered clearing together with a couple of birch trees scattered around. He saw the shed where they kept the horses and noticed Avalon's head poking out of a small opening, whinnying at him in greeting. They had treated the horse again an hour before they left on their morning stroll, and it seemed he was doing a lot better than yesterday already. He looked happy and chipper, though the limp in his step hadn't improved much. But just like he himself, the horse needed time to heal.

They arrived back at the cabin and Arthur slowly sat down on a patch of damp grass, letting his back rest against a birch tree as he stretched his aching limbs. Two chickens passed him, pecking and scratching the dirt looking for food, while Ollie laid down next to him, biting and nibbling on the stick he had found in the woods. At the other side of the clearing he saw a white goat grazing. He felt a gentle breeze touch the warmth of his cheeks, drying the sweat on his temples and tousling his hair.

He saw Albert giving him a small smile before wandering back into the cabin. He didn't notice much else as he felt his eyes getting heavy, hardly noticed he was dozing off into a light slumber.

He didn't dream, or maybe he didn't remember what he dreamed of, but his nap had felt somewhat peaceful, for the first time in weeks. When he woke up again, he could feel the warmth of the October sun on his lower body and legs, the rest of him covered by the shadows of the birch and pine trees. He glanced at Ollie who was lying knock out next to him, pieces and chips of wood scattered all around the dog's sleeping form. The chips of wood reminded him of something he used to do when he was younger, when he hadn't yet turned into the gang's working horse. He realized he just didn't have the time to do a lot of things for himself anymore.

He took the walking stick Albert had found for him, studied the quality of the wood. Seemed quite good actually, still green and quite soft. Birch wood, ideal for carving. He glanced up at the birch tree he was leaning against and took his knife out of his holster, started working on the wood. He carved along the grain, cutting of bits and pieces. After a while, the rough shape of a dog's head appeared. He started adding the finer details, the eyes, the button of its nose, the long fur, worked on it till it was more to his liking.

“Arthur, catch!”

Arthur looked up, startled. Saw to his horror Albert throwing an egg at him. He quickly and clumsily dropped the things he was holding and just in time caught the egg before it hit him in the face.

He gave Albert an incredulous look. “What the Hell?” He growled. “Did you just really throw an egg at me?”

Albert started laughing nervously at Arthur's bewildered expression. “I'm sorry, dear Arthur.” He chuckled, looking way too amused. “Couldn't restrain myself, but rest assured, it's a boiled egg.”

“…What?” Arthur grumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed Albert had been able to fool him.

Albert held his own egg up in the air and cracked it against his forehead. “See?” He said, still laughing as he plopped down next to Arthur and clapped a hand on the other's shoulder, seemed to notice Arthur flinching at the touch.

“I would've paid a fortune to see that egg been replaced by an uncooked one…” Arthur grumbled as he started to peel the shell off the egg. “Didn't know you had a bit of a dark sight, Albert.." He grumbled and glanced down at Ollie, who was now giving him an expectant look, eyeing the egg in his hand. “..Cause of you the dog woke up as well..” He kept on grumbling.

“I’m sorry, I couldn't resist.” Albert chuckled and started peeling his own egg. He glanced at the chips of wood lying scattered around Arthur, noticed the forgotten knife and stick. “What were you working on, Arthur?” He asked.

“Oh. Nothing interesting really, bit of wood carving.” Arthur grunted and took a bite out of his egg, it was still warm.

“Ah really? Can I see it?” Albert asked curiously, couldn't hide the excitement in his eyes.

“I'm no good at it.. but okay, sure.” Arthur grunted and grabbed the stick, handing it over to Albert. “It ain't finished yet.” He grumbled.

Albert studied the stick in his hand, his brows raised in surprise. “Good heavens, Arthur!” He exclaimed as he turned the stick in his hands to examine every angle. “This is quite magnificent!”

“Nahh..”

“It looks just like Ollie!” Albert discovered and held the stick next to Ollie's head to look at the resemblances. “It's amazing! My God, such a talent you are!”

Arthur felt his cheeks warm, not used to getting all these compliments, he scratched the back of his head again, feeling awkward and not quite sure what to do with himself. “You uhh.. you can keep if you want.” He grunted.

“Are you sure?” Albert's brows raised in surprise.

“Sure.. it's just a piece of wood.” Arthur grunted and looked down at the last bit of the egg in his hands, before plopping it in his mouth as well. He rather wanted to end this conversation and all the flattery that came along with it.

“Thank you, Arthur.” Albert smiled at him, looking grateful. “But you better keep it till your leg's back to normal again.” He handed the stick back to him, his hand hovering over Arthur's a bit longer than necessary.

Arthur was wishing for his trusty hat, wishing he could hide his face underneath the brim of his hat while Albert gave him that warming smile. Instead he gave a dry chuckle, which caught in his throat, and looked away and around them, feeling a bit embarrassed. “So uhh.. saw you also got some chickens and a.. goat.” He changed the subject when his eyes caught sight of the animals again.

Albert didn't seem to mind the change of subject, or perhaps just didn't notice. “Ah yes, they're such good animals!” He said as he finished the last of the boiled egg. “The chickens names are Frank and Hank, and the goat's name is Fritz.”

Arthur stared at him. “Aren't they like.. ‘lady’ animals?” He pointed at the animals a bit vaguely.

“Well yes.” Albert answered without providing any answers. And Arthur decided he didn't want to know anyway. He shook his head and leaned back against the tree.

Albert went to stand up and brushed himself off. “Excuse me, dear Arthur, but I need to feed the animals, also take a look at how Avalon is doing.”

Arthur sat upright and went to stand up as well. “I'll help you.” He grunted and pocketed his knife, grabbing the stick to help himself stand up.

“That's very proper of you, Arthur.” Albert chuckled. “But I rather have you resting a bit more, I think the dead are less pale than you!” he said. “But really, please, I’d feel better if you take some more rest.” He gave Arthur a pointed look before turning and walking in the direction of the shed.

Arthur grunted, wanted to protest, but Albert was already out of eyesight. He grumbled and turned to the cabin, better be a bit more useful and make some tea for himself and Albert. Maybe he would be able to find some coffee in one of those cabinets, he was dying for some coffee.

He limped up the front porch steps and went inside in the direction of the small kitchen, while passing the fireplace, he deftly threw another log on the dying fire. He opened the small window above the kitchen counter and felt a gentle fall breeze go through the dusty cabin, made the small fire in the hearth dance. He always used to love the crackling sounds of a fire, used to love the scent of smoke and burning wood. But nowadays it gave him a feeling of bitterness and distress, reminded him of that night, lying close to the campfire, intensely watching the flames as he tried to zone out, as he felt those awful men touching him, using his body over and over again.

He shook his head and tried to snap the disturbing images and feelings out of his system. He could still feel their bruising grips on his skin, heard their mocking laughter, and when he closed his eyes, he saw their penetrating gazes boring straight into his soul. He had been feeling quite good a few seconds ago and now he felt like complete and utter shit, like a disgusting and worthless three dollar whore.

He scrubbed a hand over the short stubble around his mouth and cheeks and tried his best to distract himself, went back to the task at hand. He spotted the bucket, there was still some crisp water inside and he filled the kettle with it, placing it close to the fire. He still had that nagging feeling of dread as he rummaged through the cabinets. He was hoping to find some ground coffee, but to his chagrin he found absolutely nothing. He kept on rummaging in the back of the cabinet and felt something cool brush against his fingers, like glass. He circled his fingers around the neck of a bottle and took it out. It was some of that Midnight Moonshine. He leaned down and looked inside the cabinet, to his surprise there were multiple bottles of shine.

He could really use a drink.

And Albert probably wouldn't miss one bottle.

He pulled the cork out and took a whiff of the shine, raising his brows when the strong scent hit his nose. This batch seemed even stronger than the one Albert had used on his leg. He took a deep swig and coughed as he felt the liquid burn down his throat. He took a couple of more swigs, getting used to the high percentage of alcohol. It was real effective, starting to ease most of the tension in his body. Leaning heavily against the kitchen counter, he took his time as he drank gulp after gulp of the alcohol. After he drank half the bottle, it felt like he was swimming in a haze. 

He didn’t quite know how long he stood there leaning and swaying against the kitchen counter, it didn't matter much anyway, he was starting to feel giddy and his troubles were starting to slip away, like sand slipping through his fingers. He suddenly realized he was supposed to be making tea, he should be making tea. It's what he had wanted to do in the first place. Yes, he needed to make tea. His thoughts were rambling, though he wasn't quite sure if it were his thoughts or if he was speaking out loud. He swayed when he let go of the kitchen counter and spotted the teapots that were lined up on a shelf nearby. In his drunken stupor, he forgot about his malfunctioning leg and almost crashed down into the floor, his arms flailing, just in time to take hold of the comfy seat in front of the fireplace. He started grinning and slowly crawled upwards again, his eyes still set on the teapots. He reached up and took the chicken teapot in his hands, held it up in front of his face as he stared back at the chicken's beady little black eyes.

“Cluck cluck..” He slurred, chuckling.

He slowly made his way back to the small kitchen, swaying dangerously to one side and grabbed two big bushes of dried herbs that were hanging above the fireplace, stuffing them inside the teapot. Thankfully he was still sensible enough to protect his hands with his sleeve from the burning heat of the kettle, pouring the boiling water in the chicken teapot. He looked quite pleased at his handiwork, twigs and leaves sticking out in odd angles out of the teapot.

He decided he had done quite enough, grabbed the bottle of shine and slumped down in the comfy seat at the fireplace. A stupid grin plastered on his face.

“Arthur?”

He turned to look over his shoulder, his gaze meeting Albert's. He raised his brows and shot the other man a goofy smile. “Alburrrr.. I made us sum tea!”

“Oh drat.. Arthur…” Albert's eyes widened. “..are you drunk?” He asked carefully, his nose scrunching up when he most definitely could smell the alcohol coming from Arthur's mouth.

“No..?” Arthur grinned, raised the bottle of shine to his lips and took another swig.

“Good heavens, You haven't even been alone for that long!” Albert exclaimed and ran a hand through his hair.

“This..” Arthur raised the bottle. “..’s strong stuff..” He slurred and grinned again. “You shoul' try.. Alburrrrrr..” He let the R roll off his tongue and started chuckling again.

“No, thank you.” Albert chuckled nervously and slowly took the bottle out of Arthur's hands. Arthur's grunt of protest sounded more like a childish whine. 

“I think you've had quite enough, good sir!” Albert said as he swatted Arthur's hands away and threw the almost empty bottle back into the kitchen cabinet. “Good heavens, why'd you go and drink all this anyway, Arthur?”

Arthur stayed silent for a couple of long seconds and stared into the fire. 

“I fel’ sad..” He grumbled eventually, looking solemn all of a sudden.

“Sad?” Albert raised his brows in surprise and stepped a bit closer towards Arthur, searching for the other's eyes.

Arthur didn't look up to meet his eyes. “Those men.. those alphas..” he slurred and slumped further into his seat, looking defeated. “I coul' feel… their hands ‘n me again…” His voice was becoming more and more quiet. “..I still can't.. get that night outta my head..” He growled and looked Albert in the eyes.

Albert didn't know what to say, momentarily frozen to the spot by the lost and frustrated look in the other man's eyes.

“..I can still hear ‘em laughin’..” Arthur slurred, a bitter look crossing over his features as he stared back into the flames of the fire again, his hands clenching into fists.

Albert took in a deep breath and crouched next to Arthur, not really knowing what to say. What could he even say to something like that? He hardly understood what had happened to the other, but he knew it wasn't any good. He opted to stay silent and just listen. But after a long while of silence, he realized Arthur was done talking, the other just kept on staring into the dying fire.

Albert glanced at the chicken teapot on the kitchen counter, twigs of creeping thyme and oregano sticking out, not the best kind of herbs to be using for a tea. He couldn't be bothered though, couldn't even be bothered Arthur had used his beloved chicken teapot, a collector's item, not even suitable to be used. The only thing that bothered him was the troubled and lost look in the other's eyes.

“Arthur.. you can stay for as long as you like..” Albert said as he carefully placed a hand on the other man's shoulder. Arthur seemed to accept the touch without flinching for once, he glanced sideways, but didn't meet Albert's eyes. “…for as long as you need.” Albert finished saying.

Arthur nodded slowly and let out a long sigh.

“..’preciate it..” He said and stared back into the flames.

………………………………………….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, this chapter ended up way darker than I intended to initially. I wanted a happy drunk Arthur!


	18. Chapter 18

It was still dark, early in the morning when Albert woke up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he hadn't slept all that much. He glanced at the dying embers and leaned down to throw a fresh log onto the smoldering coals. He yawned and tucked his blanket up to his nose as he watched the flames reawaken. Arthur had kept him awake for a big part of the night, singing drunken songs, talking silly, rambling on about chickens and how much he liked them. Eventually the other had passed out, his body draped over the bed, lightly snoring as Ollie had snuggled up next to him. That dog sure seemed to love Arthur.

Albert slumped in his seat, looking over at the omega in his bed. His mother would've been so proud of him, he thought wryly, finally an omega to warm his bed. Not that he was allowed to join that very same bed. Though he admitted he wouldn't mind lying there next to the other's warm body. But he would never do such a thing without an invite of the other man.

It was strange how much had changed ever since Arthur had stumbled into his life, barely three days ago. He could get used to this, having someone around, someone to talk to. Arthur even seemed to accept him the way he was, hadn't been bothered by all his quirks, his clumsiness, even seemed to embrace them. 

When he thought about Arthur, he felt his heart flutter and his cheeks warm. He admitted he had developed a bit of a crush, and who could blame him? Arthur was a beautiful man, one who he would love to photograph. A strong jaw line, beautiful blue greenish eyes, full eyebrows and those cheekbones.. ahh those cheekbones, a photographer's wet dream. It weren't just his looks, no. Arthur seemed like a kind and gentle man, he had a good sense of humor and seemed to share his love for nature and animals. He glanced back and stared at the fire burning in the hearth, Arthur's scent lingering around him. The other man's scent was a bit difficult to describe, it reminded him a bit of a gentle summer breeze and it drew him in like a warm embrace, like the earthy scent of sun dried hay with the sweet and floral aroma of wild summer flowers mixed through. It was a very appealing scent and it had been the first thing he had noticed about the other man when he had found him at that stream looking close to death. 

He sighed and wrapped the blanket closer around his body, the morning air cool on his skin. There was something troubling going on with the other man, that much was clear. He could see it in Arthur's solemn eyes, he could see it when Arthur flinched when Albert briefly clapped a gentle hand on his shoulder, he could see it when Arthur made those almost unnoticeable twitches every once and a while, he could see it on Arthur's skin, his injured body full of fresh and old scars. He had gotten some vague clues on what had happened to Arthur and how he had ended up at that stream. Albert had tried putting the small bits and pieces of info together. How Arthur had mentioned escaping from an alpha, even though he had talked about more than just one alpha in his drunken stupor. So there was the possibility of there being multiple alphas and he had the feeling they had treated Arthur in an awful way. 

He thought back to the drunken confessions the other had uttered and couldn't help the way his own chest tightened. Arthur had sounded so pained and traumatized and Albert could only imagine what had happened to the other man. It broke his heart knowing he had been treated in such a way and he wished there was a way for him to help the other.

Looking at the small window in the corner of the kitchen, he saw the light of the morning sun starting to creep up the horizon. He slowly lifted himself up and decided he’d better get up and feed the animals, check up on Avalon and maybe get some fresh goat milk for Arthur when he wakes up. He was probably going to feel dreadful after the amount of shine he drank.

He took his blanket and draped it over Arthur's form. Just to be sure he grabbed an empty bucket and put it next to the bed before going outside to tend to the animals.

When he returned to the cabin with two cups of fresh goat milk in his hands, around an hour later, he grimaced when he was welcomed to the sound of retching, the cabin reeking of vomit. He looked at Arthur, sitting on the bedside, slumped forwards, the bucket full of black looking vomit on his lap. The other man looked absolutely miserable.

Though he couldn't help the small chuckle that slipped from his lips and Arthur shot him a wretched look.

“Good morning, Arthur.” Albert said.

“Mornin'..” Arthur grunted in response, his voice gruff and shaky.

Albert walked over and handed him the cup of milk. “It'll help for your ‘sickness'..” He said, a small careful smile on his lips. “An old and wise lady once told me it helps filling up those lost minerals.”

“Thanks..” Arthur grumbled and accepted the cup, taking a small sip. Albert was almost convinced he could hear Arthur's stomach churning in protest when he drank.

“How are you feeling?” Albert asked and leaned down to study Arthur's face. The other was starting to reek, his normally inviting scent smoldered by the smell of alcohol and vomit.

“Miserable..” Arthur had put the cup of goat milk aside and was clutching the bucket again.

Albert gave a light chuckle and gently clapped Arthur on the shoulder. He noted the blanket he himself had been sleeping under was still wrapped around Arthur's shoulders and it made his heart flutter in a nice way, knowing Arthur seemed to accept his scent.

“..’m sorry.” Arthur grunted. “for all this.” He sloppily waved a hand around himself.

“No worries.” Albert gave a bit of a quirky smile, took a chair to sit down in front of Arthur. “..but I rather have you not doing it again..”

Arthur grunted in response and Albert wasn't quite sure if the other meant it as a yes or a no. 

“We could go to the stream, there's a particular nice spot up the hill. A small waterfall surrounded by a spectacular scenery.” Albert suggested. “-you can refresh yourself and I can take my camera along, make some pictures.”

“Of me?” Arthur chuckled, though his chuckle came out a bit wry.

“N-no!” Albert stuttered. “No, I- I meant I can.. I could.. make some pictures of- of the scenery!” He stumbled over his words. “Not that I wouldn't.. you know.. I wouldn't mind taking pictures of you, you're quite lovely! But I meant the scenery, the nature, the stream, maybe some wildlife if I'm lucky!” He rambled on.

“Lovely? ..Don't think anyone ever called me that before.” Arthur said with a subtle smile, a teasing glint in his eyes. 

“Well.. uhh, well you know..” Albert stumbled over the words in his mouth.

“No worries, Albert. I'm just fooling around with you.” Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “But I would like to accept that invite of yours.”

“Very drole, Arthur… But.. but great!” Albert said cheerfully as he tried to hide his embarrassment. “We'll take some buckets along as well, get some fresh water when we're there, I'm almost run out of it.”

“Sure..” Arthur responded, he was turning a bit pale again. “Just give me a minute..” He grunted and grasped the bucket, he dry heaved and started vomiting, looking absolutely miserable and drained when he looked up again, wiping his mouth. “…You wanna use this bucket as well?” He held the bucket up and chuckled miserably.

“I have.. other buckets.” Albert said slowly. “Maybe you should take some more rest before we go.. We'll leave when..” He paused when Arthur started retching again. “..you're feeling a bit better.” He finished when Arthur looked up again.

“Sure.. won't be necessary though…” Arthur grumbled and moved to lie down again, tugging Albert's blanket close around himself. 

“I'm..” He mumbled sleepily. “-fine…” And dozed off.

……………………………………………

It wasn't a long walk, but heading up the stream, seemed like quite the hassle for Arthur. The other had tried to hide it, but failed miserably. His breathing labored, sweat dripping down the sides of his pale face, the limp in his step worsening as he started to lean more and more onto his walking stick as he walked up the moss covered path. Albert had tried to convince Arthur to get on Herbert, but the other had refused, the stubborn buffoon he was.

So here Albert was, Herbert's reins in his hands, the horse walking next to him, buckets and camera equipment attached to the saddle. And Arthur wobbling after him, looking close to a walking corpse. 

Albert let out a long sigh. “Will you get on the horse, you stubborn man!”

Arthur grunted in response and stumbled in his step, though kept on walking. He grumbled incoherently as he passed Albert and Albert couldn't help the chuckle that slipped from his lips in response.

“We could take a small rest.” Albert suggested instead.

“Shut it, Mason.” Arthur grumbled again and kept on limping up the hill, they could hear the rippling of water against rocks nearby.

Albert smiled and shook his head, following after the other. A few minutes later they arrived at the stream and Albert watched how Arthur slumped down on a big rock, his breathing uneven and raspy as he miserably stared at the rippling water. He seemed to be moping, and Albert couldn't help how his own lips quirked upwards.

He kept his amused smile to himself and let the other man catch his breath, gathering his camera equipment from Herbert's saddle. Although Arthur didn't seem all too pleased with his body's condition, Albert noticed he seemed to be healing up rather fast, almost miraculously fast. It was absurd really, as if Arthur's body was used to being injured. And maybe there was a hidden truth to that.

He set up his camera and looked around at the scenery. The mountain stream wounded through the forest until it reached a small waterfall that fed into a small clear pond surrounded by tall trees and rocks. Grabbing the buckets, Albert slid down the hill beside the waterfall to the pond's edge. He looked over the water, a cool breeze touching his cheeks and neck. He marveled at the small rainbows that revealed themselves when the sunshine fell on the spray of the waterfall. For the time of the year it was quite a pleasant and warm day, he noted.

He leaned down to run a hand through the clear water. “It's a bit chilly!” He warned Arthur. “But still good enough for a quick bath.” He filled the two buckets with the cold water and walked back up to where Herbert was grazing on a small patch of grass, offering the horse some of the water to drink.

Arthur grunted in response, still a bit out of breath. He had taken his guns along with him and was holding one in his hands, inspecting it from every angle, shaking it, and when he held it upside down, a small trickle of muddy water came out of the barrel. Arthur grimaced, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Think I'm gonna clean my weapons first.” He muttered. “You got a piece of cloth or something?”

Albert watched how Herbert drank greedily of the water. He started rummaging through his pockets, taking out a white handkerchief. “You can use this.” He offered Arthur the piece of cloth.

“Thanks.” Arthur grunted, nodding his head in gratitude as he started working on the gun. 

Albert didn't know much about guns, but he knew they were normally cleaned with gun oil. He started rummaging through his saddle bag and took out a small tin container, handing it to Arthur as well. Arthur scanned the object and shot him a questioning look. “I use the oil when I have to lubricate the shutter mechanism of my camera, might be useful for your gun as well.” Albert offered in return.

“Might be useful indeed, thanks Albert.” Arthur grunted, offering the other a subtle smile and started the cleaning of his weapon.

Albert's heart fluttered when Arthur gave him that careful smile, how his name slipped from the other's lips. Chuckling nervously, he quickly turned on his heel and went to work on his own camera. 

They both worked in silence, the rays of the sun falling upon the canopy of pine needles above them, a few rays slipping through, illuminating the moss covered ground at their feet. Such a beautiful day it was, comforting and warming and Albert couldn't help but wanting to treasure these moments between them.

Albert shot a glance at Arthur, watched how he was working on the gun, full of expertise, deft fingers slipping the cloth along the barrel till it started shining again. Turning his camera, he silently pointed it at Arthur. There was a bright flash, a loud click immediately following afterwards and Arthur looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Why you making pictures of this ugly mug when you could be making pictures of the beautiful scenery around you?” He grumbled.

“But I am making pictures of the beautiful scenery around me.” Albert dared to say and immediately started chuckling nervously when Arthur gave him a disgruntled look. He realized he was flirting and quickly turned his camera back to the waterfall, feeling a bit embarrassed. He hadn't even meant to say it, it just slipped from his mouth, and it felt wrong and disrespectful the moment he had said it. Arthur had gone through Hell and back and here he was making it all worse. Instead of flirting, he should be helping Arthur, maybe offer the other a listening ear.

Though Albert didn't really know if he should ask Arthur, ask him if he wanted to talk about what bothered him.. or rather traumatized him. Arthur seemed quite keen on ignoring last night and the subtle confessions he had uttered to Albert. Or maybe he didn't remember. Though Albert was quite sure Arthur did remember, by the subtle and uneasy glances the other gave him when he thought he wasn't looking.

But he guessed it was understandable the other man didn't want to talk about it. It wasn't an easy subject and talking about it certainly would bring up some awful memories.

He glanced over at Arthur, saw him hold the gun up and looking it over, looking quite pleased with his handiwork. “I'm going for a quick dip in the water.” He grunted and placed the gun back into his holster.

“Sounds like a splendid idea, Arthur! I brought some clean clothes for you, also got some soap.” Albert said. “You can find them in Herbert's saddlebag.. need any help?”

“Nah.” Arthur waved a hand at him and slowly stood up, grabbing his stick and limping over to the horse. “..But thanks.” He added as an afterthought.

Albert nodded his head and watched Arthur taking the soap, dark brown pants and a green checkered shirt out of the saddlebag. Albert had figured out Arthur looked quite stunning in green, it made the pretty green in his eyes stand out, but he guessed Arthur would look good in almost anything. 

He watched how Arthur slid down the hill towards the pond's edge, Ollie following closely after him, slowly sitting down on a large rock. He had taken the gun along with him and put it on the rock next to him as he started to take his shoes off and the bandages around his leg to let his feet dangle in the water. Swallowing thickly, Albert knew he shouldn't be watching, but he just couldn't pry his eyes away from the other man when he saw him slowly, almost hesitantly unbuttoning his shirt and slipping the garment off his shoulders, revealing bruised but pale skin. His skin looked soft despite the strength that was eminent through his toned muscles. Normally Albert wasn't bothered all that much by his alpha instincts, Hell they were almost nonexistent, but watching Arthur undress tickled some of his hidden desires. He saw Arthur grabbing the bar of soap and noted how the other man kept his pants on when he moved to the rock's edge, and Albert almost felt grateful for it.   
Arthur turned to look at him from over his shoulder and Albert quickly looked away when the other caught him staring. He clumsily fumbled with his camera, chuckling nervously as Arthur turned back to look at the water.

There was a loud splash when Arthur jumped into the water, Ollie barking and jumping after him. 

“Shit! You weren't lying!” He yelped in an unbecoming high pitched voice, he duck his head underwater and came up almost instantly. “..’s goddamn freezing!”

Albert, momentarily distracted from his embarrassment, started laughing, looking on in amusement as Arthur started hopping through the water, his arms flailing over the surface, desperately trying to warm himself while Ollie swam circles around him. Eventually he sank down into the water, his head the only thing visible above the surface, looking a bit more used to the cold.

“Still cold?” Albert chuckled.

“Yeah..” Arthur grumbled, his lips stirring the water. “But it's nice and I guess… somewhat distracting.”

Albert pondered about the word, distracting. Distracting of what? Of his thoughts?

Arthur started scrubbing his skin with the soap and Albert decided he had stared enough for the day, he came here to make photos, not to ogle at an other man. Though the picture of Arthur washing surrounded by breathtaking nature, it was all he could think of. 

He was distracted by his thoughts when Arthur stood up abruptly, water trickling down his toned chest, the revealed parts of his body glistening in the sun. He looked alarmed and was scanning his surroundings.

“What's wrong, Arthur?” Albert asked as he glanced over his shoulder to look behind him and into the forest, was there something there? He couldn't see anything.

“I thought I heard something..” Arthur growled as he quickly threaded forwards through the water. Ollie following after him. The dog crawled onto the rock, shaking the water from his fur. Arthur grabbed the gun and scanned his surroundings, again motioning for Albert to take cover.

Albert didn't object and duck behind a large rock.

“Come out!” Arthur yelled and Albert's heart caught in his throat from the suspension of it all. How come Ollie hadn't warned them? The loyal dog always warned them whenever a beast or an unfamiliar person came too close to him. He glanced at the dog from behind his cover and saw the animal was wagging his tail at Arthur. 

It stayed silent.

“Come out, you goddamn sons of bitches!” Arthur yelled again and Albert noticed how the other man tried to hide the tremble in his voice, he almost seemed out of breath.

After two minutes of complete silence, Albert slowly moved away from his cover and carefully slid down to the water's edge, he crouched next to Ollie and petted the dog's wet furry head. Ollie was still wagging his tail and giving Arthur an expectant look, as if he was waiting for them to play a game. Albert didn't say anything when Arthur shot him an almost desperate look.

“I really thought..” Arthur sucked in a breath. “..I know I heard something.” He tried to convince himself.

Albert gave him a sympathetic look. “Maybe you heard a rabbit scurrying around?”

“Maybe..” Arthur said absentmindedly, still staring into the forest.

After a long minute of silence, Arthur lifted himself out of the water and onto the rock. “I'm done bathing.” He grunted, his voice suddenly emotionless. He seemed out of it, his eyes all wrong, as if he was reliving some awful memories. Albert decided it was better to give the other some space and slowly walked away from the water's edge. Walking over to Herbert, he started rummaging through the saddlebag, taking out some clean bandages. When he turned back to the other, he saw Arthur had already taken the wet pants off, his naked bum turned towards Albert as he was quickly putting the dry brown pants on. Albert froze, turning red when his eyes trailed down Arthur's muscular back and ended up staring at perfectly shaped cheeks. He quickly turned back to Herbert again, uncomfortably fumbling with the saddlebag, feeling hot all over. 

“Arthur, you want me to help bandage your leg?” He asked, his voice a bit shaky, staring hard at the saddle as he was trying desperately to repress the nervous chuckle that wanted to slip from his lips. 

There was a moment of silence before Arthur replied. “Sure..” It sounded a bit hesitant.

Albert turned back to Arthur and felt some relief wash over him when he saw the other had put the dry pants on and was slipping his arms through the sleeves of the green checkered shirt. He felt some disappointment as well, though he didn't really want to acknowledge that feeling. He just didn't know how to deal with himself right now. He should be respectful towards Arthur, not ogle him like a stalker would.

When Albert slowly walked back to Arthur, he saw the other was seated on the rock, rolling up his pants leg, every once and a while he would look over his shoulders and scan his surroundings, looking restless and on edge.

“You alright, Arthur?” Albert asked carefully as he sat down in front of the other man, he motioned the other to put his leg on his lap.

“I'm fine.” Arthur grunted absentmindedly as he had some trouble lifting his leg in a comfortable position.

Albert stayed silent, feeling a bit uncomfortable as he inspected the wound and slowly started wrapping the bandage around Arthur's leg. The other man was doing his utmost best to look at anything but him.

“I uhh.. know you've been through something awful..” Albert started and caught Arthur's eyes for a second or two before the other man looked away again. “You want to talk about it?” He offered carefully.

Arthur stayed silent, looking down at his hands, doing his best to not meet his eyes.

“I rather not..” He grumbled after a while, he sounded a bit lost. “I just…” He let out a deep sigh. “I don't know…”

Albert momentarily halted in wrapping the bandages around Arthur's leg and kept silent, just watching the other man.

“I guess talking about it.. makes it more real.” Arthur grumbled, scrubbing a hand across his face. “I wish I could just forget… but I can't.” He sounded oh so tired. “And I'm feeling worse and worse.. I don't know what to do with myself anymore…” He shot Albert a desperate look before looking down at his hands again.

And to be honest, Albert didn't quite know what to do with the situation himself. He was no expert in dealing with a human's mind and thoughts. But he did know he wanted to help Arthur. And by the looks of it, Arthur needed the help.

Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair. “And now I'm starting to hear things.. I think I'm going crazy, Albert..” He looked him in the eyes and Albert's breath caught in his throat when he could see the pain and terror in those eyes. “I heard them howling, I heard them laughing just now. I heard them, I know I did.”

“They’re not here, it was just your imagination, Arthur.” Albert tried to reassure him.

“And that's just what scares me.”

And Albert had the idea Arthur wasn't that easily scared.

“I just wish I could help you..” Albert said as he carefully placed a warm hand on Arthur's leg. “Maybe talking about it will help, bottling it up hasn't worked so far.”

Arthur sighed. “I appreciate it, Albert. But I guess I'm a bit of a lost case.” He tried to joke, but the chuckle that slipped from his lips sounded bitter.

“Oh nonsense, Arthur!” Albert said as he went back to bandaging Arthur's leg. “We'll sort it out..” 

He glanced up and caught Arthur's eyes. “I promise we will.” He said.

…………………………………………….

John Marston knew he was a lot of things, a lucky son of a bitch surely was one of them. 

Though he hadn't expected his luck to be quite as big when he saw the familiar face of Charles coming up the trail, slightly shrouded by the shadows of yellow turning birch trees above him. Charles normally wasn't a man who showed a lot of expression, but even he looked surprised when his eyes caught sight of John. He halted Taima in front of Old boy and raised his brows.

“John.” He said slowly, his brows still raised as he tilted his head to the side to study John's face, as if to make sure he was talking to the right person. “I must confess, I didn't expect to see you here.”

“I didn't as well.” John chuckled. “But boy am I glad to see you here. Saves me a lot of trouble searching for you.”

Charles nodded, a subtle smile on his lips. He steered Taima around Old boy and motioned at John to follow him.

“Were you heading back to camp?” John asked, frowning as he steered Old boy after him.

“No, I wasn't.” Charles replied simply.

“You know where Arthur is?” John asked as he spurred Old boy on to walk next to Taima.

“No, not yet.”

John felt himself getting frustrated by the lack of answers he was getting. “He isn't in Applebridge? That alpha, he got Arthur?” 

“Doesn't seem like it.” Charles replied. “I talked to some locals, that train robbery is the talk of the town.” He turned to look at John, his eyes sharp. “They said everyone got away.” 

John raised his brows in surprise. “Arthur got away?”

“I'm not sure, but I couldn't find a trace of him in Applebridge.”

John raised his brows in surprise. “Well goddamn..”

“Don't get your hopes up, John.” Charles replied quickly. “For all I know, he could be dead..”

“He ain't dead.” John growled back.

Charles gave him a long look, but didn't say anything. Probably knew there was nothing he could say that would make John think otherwise.

“So.. where are we going then?” John asked, ignoring the other's look as he scanned his surroundings, they had turned off the main road and were descending down a narrow trail, Old boy following after Taima. To one side there was a massive covered rock cliff covered with green moss, his gaze lifted up to look at the cliff top. To their right there was a steep descent, looking out over the golden turning forest.

“To the train tracks.” Charles replied and John turned his head back to look at the other man. “Maybe Arthur left some tracks we can follow.” 

Or a body to bury. But he didn't say it out loud.

John nodded in response.

“You think you can remember where you jumped off the train?” Charles asked as he glanced over his shoulder to look at John.

“I'm not sure, it's all a bit of a blur.” John grunted.

“Hmm.. I'm not surprised. You hit your head quite hard.” Charles said. “I think I can see the tracks, we'll look for traces when we're there.”

John spotted the tracks up ahead as well and thought about Arthur's horse, would they find it's carcass next to the train tracks? The poor animal eaten by wolves or what else. He hoped the horse had gotten away. But how far could it go with a bullet in its leg? Not very far, he thought grimly. He didn't even allow the thought to cross his mind that there was a possibility they could be finding Arthur's dead body as well.

“Are you feeling better now, John?”

John glanced at Charles, broken out of his thoughts. “Huh?”

“The last time I saw you, you didn't look all too good when you returned from the train job.” Charles turned to look at him from over his shoulder and pointed a finger at his head.

“I'm fine.” John grunted, his headache was growing after the long trip up to Applebridge, but he wasn't going to tell Charles just that. 

“It seems the forced bedrest and Abigail's care did you good, you're lucky with a woman like her.”

“I know…”John grumbled. “But don't you dare tell her I said that.”

Charles chuckled and shook his head. “Don't worry, I won't.”

They rode down the rest of the trail and started following the tracks, so far there was nothing to be found.

“I think I see something.” Charles said all of a sudden and spurred Taima on. John's breath caught in his throat and he quickly followed after the other.

They halted and John watched Charles dismount and crouch, his fingers tracing over the dirt. At first John didn't notice anything strange, it took him a few seconds to notice the disturbed dirt, broken twigs and the patches of dried blood. 

But no dead horse.

“This must be where you fell off Arthur's horse.” Charles said as he studied the deep imprints in the dirt, probably where Avalon's body had made impact with the ground.

“Arthur's horse stood up on his own.” Charles continued, his hand wandering over the patch of dried blood. “It went that way, away from the train tracks.” He pointed a finger.

“We should follow it, maybe Arthur whistled for him.” John said, already steering Old boy in the direction Charles pointed his finger to.

“Maybe.” Charles repeated slowly, standing up again. “I guess It's the only lead we have.”

John spurred Old boy on, moving off the train tracks and into the forest.

“Wait a second, John.” Charles said as he broke a twig covered in yellow leaves off a birch tree. He started wiping the tracks with it, the dried blood, the deep imprints. After he was finished, you could hardly see anyone had been there before. 

“I heard talk in town about search parties..” Charles said when he caught John's questioning look, he hopped onto the saddle as well and followed after John. “Better be safe than sorry.”

John nodded and concentrated on the broken twigs, the hoof imprints and the occasional drips of blood the horse had left in its trail. 

For the first time in days he felt a bit of hope. 

They would find Arthur.

He knew they would.

…………………………………………….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took a bit longer. Writing this story takes a lot of free time, which I honestly don't have a lot. I needed a short break.
> 
> But seriously, you guys are the best! Thanks for all the nice comments and all the lovely kudos, I love you guys! <3  
If I haven't responded to your comment just yet, I will! First wanted to upload this chapter.


	19. Chapter 19

He walked slowly, taking in everything from the patches of dark blue sky visible through the trees to the orange and golden leaves sprinkling the forest floor. The sun was sinking to the horizon and Arthur was yet again experiencing that awfully familiar feeling of panic and dread when they walked along the looming trees, heading back to the cabin. He felt a shiver going up his spine and his shoulders twitched involuntarily upwards when he stared into the darkness around them. Surrounded by the eerily shaped shadows that came along with the darkness, felt like there were eyes all around them, watching them. 

Watching him.

He noted how Albert kept an eye on him, probably noticing his anxious behavior, but thankfully he didn't say anything. Arthur appreciated the way Albert dealt with him and all his anxieties, giving him a respectable amount of space when he needed it the most, but still being close enough around him to bring him some kind of comfort. He knew he wasn't deserving of Albert's kindness and he couldn't help but think he was risking the other man's life.

Albert, he was an innocent bystander in all this. And he himself, he was a wanted outlaw, a criminal, scum. Mister Cullen and the law, they might be out there searching for him and if they found him, they would find Albert. The possibility that they would acknowledge Albert as an accomplice was pretty big and he would never forgive himself if anything happened to the other man.

If he wanted to keep Albert safe, he knew he had to get away from here, although a big part of him just wanted to stay. He knew he was being selfish, the gang probably needed him, might even be worried about him, also Albert's life was on the line. These should be big enough reasons to convince himself to leave and return to the gang.

But he didn't want to convince himself to leave.

No, instead he wanted to convince himself to stay.

He told himself Avalon was in no shape to make the trip back to camp, which was mostly true. He told himself how everyone wouldn't miss him anyway. He told himself the law and mister Cullen wouldn't want to bother searching for a dead body. 

He shook his head and sighed. He knew he was being selfish. And he knew he would have to find a way back to camp sooner rather than later.

They neared the cabin and he couldn't help but feel a sliver of relief wash over him. The cabin had become like a safe haven to him, whenever he was there, it soothed and eased some of his nerves. It was a whole lot better than when he was outside in the woods. The forest was beautiful and would've calmed him before the incident, but now it felt almost claustrophobic, as if the trees would slip a noose around his throat, hang him up in the air, patiently waiting to snap his neck. It felt suffocating being out here. Felt like there were dangers lurking around every corner, eyes watching his every move. He knew it mostly was his paranoia and he knew he was being a weak and miserable fool. And it frustrated him to a great extent.

“Arthur, are you feeling okay?” Albert asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Arthur glanced up from where he was staring at his feet, hadn't even noticed he himself had stopped walking, although limping might be a better word for what he was doing at the moment. His leg was throbbing and hurting like Hell and he leaned heavily into his walking stick. He looked at Albert who had turned to look at him, he knew Albert was probably trying to hide his worried expression, though it was barely visible in the darkness anyway.

“I…” Arthur started, but his breath caught in his throat. He wanted to say he was fine, it is what he was used to say, it was always what he was expected to say. But somehow he couldn't get the words out of his mouth. “I… don't know..” He said instead and he felt weak and worthless by the hidden meaning behind those words.

Arthur glanced up through the leaves at the sky, at the beginning of twinkling stars in its faraway depth. Any traces of the sun had disappeared, leaving them standing in the eerie darkness of the forest.

Albert looked at him and Arthur had difficulty reading his features hidden by the shadows around them. “Come, let's get inside.” Albert spoke up eventually. “I'll make us some tea.”

Arthur nodded, not really knowing what to say anyway. He couldn't help but feel overwhelmed about everything and nothing at the same time as he slowly stumbled after Albert and into the cabin. He slumped into the seat at the fireplace, felt a soft wet nose at his hand and looked down into Ollie's comforting eyes. He absentmindedly started petting the dog's head as he watched Albert lid the fire and make a kettle of tea. He stared into the fire, familiar but dreadful images playing out in front of his eyes, he hardly noticed anything else until a warm cup of tea was pushed into his hands. He looked up at Albert and offered him a small grunt of gratitude.

“Arthur…” Albert started, he seemed to be hesitating. “..can you tell me what happened to you?” He asked carefully as he sat down in the seat net to him, his brows furrowed into a worried frown. "I know it isn't anything good, but maybe I can help you..."

Arthur closed his eyes. He focused his attention on whichever feeling he felt rattling around inside his chest the loudest. He felt doubt and unease, but mostly shame when thinking about talking to Albert about that haunting night, about what's been haunting him. He’s never been good at talking about his feelings. Acting on them, yes, but verbalizing them was another matter altogether. 

He shifted in his seat, sucking in a breath. “I…” He trailed off, his breath getting caught in his throat. “I don't know..” He glanced at Albert, the other man patient as always, giving him a comforting, but encouraging look.

“I don't know where to start..” Arthur mumbled, he swallowed thickly, cradling the warm cup of tea in his hands.

“Just take your time.” Albert said. “Just try and gather your thoughts.”

Arthur nodded, swallowed again as he looked down at the tea in his hands.

“It happened not more than a month ago..” Arthur started slowly, finding it hard to come to terms he was going to talk about all this, meant he was going to accept it even happened. “I left camp, my family, when I felt.. you know…” He gestured vaguely with his hand. “When I felt.. my heat nearing, find somewhere a bit secluded..” He never liked acknowledging his heats, it always felt like a weak and uncontrollable part of himself.

Albert seemed understanding and nodded, encouraging him to go on.

“I ran.” Arthur grunted. “An’ I got caught.” He sucked his teeth, recalling the way the rope had snapped around his neck, pulling him off his horse, leaving him gasping for air on the cold forest floor.

“Who caught you?” Albert asked carefully. “Your family?”

“Nahh, wish they did though..” Arthur responded with a bitter laugh. “…A bunch of alphas caught me.” He halted in his talking, his lips pressing into a thin line, his brows furrowing, thinking about what had happened after he was caught. How in the Hell could he put all that happened to him into words?

Albert swallowed thickly as he waited for Arthur to continue, he didn't want to push the other man, he'd rather wait till the other felt ready enough to continue his story. Though he already had the dreadful feeling where this was heading.

“You.. must've figured it out already..” Arthur said slowly, his voice small as he felt his throat constricting. He scrubbed his hand across his face and let out a deep sigh. “Those alphas..." He let out a choked breath. "They took me… over and over again…” Another deep breath. “…taking turns, holding me down, laughing as they did so.” He growled as he ran a hand through his hair, a raw kind of anger seething in his eyes. 

Albert stayed quiet for a couple of long seconds, processing the words that were told to him. “They.. raped you..” He said slowly, as if saying it out loud would make him understand. “My goodness, Arthur…” His voice was not more than a whisper.

Arthur flinched when the other said the word rape, but nodded slowly. For the first time it was said out loud and it made his gut wrench in an awful way by the realization of it. What would Albert think of him now? Would he think he was disgusting and useless? Would he think he was weak?

Albert felt frozen to the spot, he had had his suspicions about what had happened, but hearing it out loud, it made his skin crawl. He placed a careful hand on Arthur's arm. “I.. I don't know what to say to make you feel better, Arthur… Nothing will, I guess” He said carefully, noticing the other's inner turmoil. “ Though I think you are really strong for telling me this..” He tried to reassure the other, urging him to go on.

Arthur snorted, but appreciated the gesture. “It was all a game to them, y' know?” He looked at him, gritting his teeth. He clenched his hands around the warm cup, the porcelain was hot and uncomfortable against his skin, the pain felt like a distraction, feeling almost like a blessing. He could hardly believe the words that were coming out of his mouth, or rather he didn't want to believe them. 

He stared into the cup in his hand. “They ruined me, Albert.” He glanced up again, looking the other in the eyes. “They completely ruined me… turned me into this weak and pathetic son of a bitch..” He growled. “I don't know what to feel anymore, except for the hate and disgust towards myself.”

“Arthur..” Albert said slowly, feeling at a loss for words when he looked into Arthur's pained eyes. 

He looked so.. broken.

Arthur broke the eye contact, pressed his fingers into his eyes, feeling overwhelmed. It’s difficult, talking about his emotions, talking about that night, talking about those alphas. Trying to put his feelings into words is new and painful, felt like he was experiencing it all over again. There never was any time and space for his emotions, he always kept them bottled up. It was the only way he knew how to deal with them. But then there was Albert, making room for him and all his troubles. Albert was as always so patient with him, has been from the start. He listened and definitely didn’t seem to judge him for every half-formed thought he abandoned. Being unable to qualify something inside of him that’s too large to fully conceptualize, that’s something he seemed to understand. 

It’s uncomfortable. It’s extremely painful bringing up all the memories, all the emotions that go along with them. So much more painful than just shoving his heart away and trying to ignore the raw parts of himself.

Albert puts another hand on his shoulder. The warm, steady pressure there allowing Arthur to focus on himself.

He felt drained and miserable, but there was also a confusing sense of relief that washed over him like a warm blanket. He looked Albert in the eyes and before he knew it, he was enveloped in a warm and comforting hug. He let out a single sob before his lungs seized, his throat constricting as he pressed his face into Albert's shoulder. The other man's embrace was strong and secure despite his slender frame, but not constricting or confining. 

Albert's earthy scent washed over him, soothed him, and Arthur couldn't help but nuzzle the scent gland at the juncture of the other's neck. They sat there for who knows how long and Arthur hardly noticed how his eyes were slipping shut, his breathing evening out as he fell fast asleep.

Sleeping more soundly than he had in weeks.

...........................................

John had to admit he had suspected they would've found Avalon by now. They had followed the tracks through the dense forest and had ended up at a stream with a wild current  
meandering down the mountain. 

But no horse.

He was starting to doubt they were following the right tracks, the animal was supposed to be injured, it shouldn't be able to walk this far at all. Taima and Old boy had trouble walking down the steep trail, doing their best to evade rocks and trees, he couldn't quite fathom how in the Hell an injured horse was able to walk this path. But maybe it shouldn't surprise him, it seemed like the horse was just as stubborn as his owner was.

The sun had sunk half below the horizon and was making eerie shapes in the forested landscape. Soon it would get too dark to follow the tracks, John noted and frowned.

“You see anything yet?” John grunted as Old boy stumbled over a rock.

“Not yet.” Charles said, even he didn't seem all too happy following this risky trail. Taima slipped and slid a couple of feet down the slope.

“Shit! This is getting too risky.” John cursed when Old boy also slid down the rocky slope and almost hit a tree. “Goddamn!” He cursed again and stroked the horse's neck when they came to a halt.

“I know..” Charles said slowly. “But we can't set up a camp on this slope. We'll have to find an even spot at the stream.”

The thought of having to stop, seemed unthinkable and was slightly unsettling to John. He'd rather continue and find Arthur. He was hoping Arthur was close by and that they were only minutes away from him. But so far there hadn't even been the smallest of hints they were close to the other man, not even a lingering hint of his scent.

He cursed yet again when Old boy slipped and he almost fell forwards over the horse's shoulder.

“I think it's better if we continue on foot.” Charles said slowly, slipping off the saddle and taking Taima's reins in his hands.

“You think..?” John replied dryly and hopped off as well.

They continued on and after a couple of minutes the ground finally started to get a bit less steep. The sun had hidden herself behind the mountains around them and an evening frost settled in, cooling their sweaty palms and foreheads.

“Where is this goddamn horse even going..?” John grumbled, it felt as if they were wasting their precious time. He was starting to feel the tracks were going to lead them to nowhere. Or maybe a dead horse, but no Arthur.

“We've been following this stream for a while now..” Charles started. “Arthur might've jumped in when he tried to escape.”

“Shit..” John grunted, realizing that a plunge in such waters sounded like a real desperate move, also risky as Hell. Nothing he ever considered doing with his swimming abilities and all. The current was wild and insane, sharp rocks and branches everywhere. If Arthur had crawled out of it alive, his body would be battered and bruised, that he was sure of.

His eyes caught Charles’, the other man was giving him a long look, as if his eyes were telling him to prepare for the worst. John quickly looked away, clenching the reins in his hands as he carried on walking. He wanted to say something, anything, anything that might convince Charles to think otherwise. But maybe he wanted to convince himself. 

He frowned and glanced at the churning river again, the water wild and relentless, burbling loudly as it traveled along its bed, bubbling over large rocks and branches as it wound its way downward through the dark forest.

It was getting darker, almost too dark, but they continued walking, was getting harder and harder to see where they placed their feet, but they had agreed without words that they would carry on for as long as they were able to. The horses were grumbling in protest and often he and Charles had to pull on the reins to convince them to go on forwards. Some hope was bubbling up the surface when John noticed the stream's current was starting to get a bit more gentle along with the terrain around them. Wasn’t more than a few minutes later till Charles halted at what seemed like a drinking spot for animals, he crouched and traced his fingers over the soil. Looking up at John, his face was barely visible in the dark.

“Human tracks..” He said slowly.

“Arthur's?”

Charles brought his fingers up to his nose, his nostrils flaring. “His scent is faint, but it's him..”

John's heart jumped inside his chest.

“Someone moved him.” Charles continued, he stayed silent for a couple of long seconds. “An Alpha by the smell of it.”

“Shit.” John cursed and scrubbed a hand across his face. “We gotta move.”

“It's getting too dark, I don't know if I can follow these tracks in a dark forest.” Charles muttered as his eyes followed the tracks moving up the riverbank and into the forest.

“We can't just sit here when we're this close.” John growled, clicked his tongue as he pulled on the reins, urging Old boy to come along with him as he started following the tracks.

Charles followed after the other. “We'll see how far we can get.. but we have to be careful, that alpha might be dangerous.”

John understood. It was in Charles's nature as a beta to be weary of alphas, first observe, than act, calm and calculating. But he himself as an alpha, his nature screamed at him to challenge the other alpha, go out guns blazing, his brother's life was on the line. He knew they were getting close now and his body and mind was screaming at him to make a move, all the pains in his body forgotten and replaced by adrenaline.

They moved into the dark forest and just like Charles predicted, it was getting harder and harder to follow the tracks, growing nearly impossible not more than a few minutes later.

“Goddamn!” John cursed when they halted, dark trees looming around them, almost in a suffocating manner. He kicked a small rock and let out a frustrated sigh, lifted his hat to run a hand through his hair. “I can't believe this!” He growled.

“John.”

“We're so goddamn close, I know we are!”

“John..” Charles said again, hushing the other. “I think I can smell smoke, though it's very faint.”

John halted in his cursing and focused on his surroundings. He flared his nostrils, concentrating. There it was. The scent of smoke was indeed faint, but it was there.

“Can you smell it?” Charles asked and saw John nod his head in the dark. “You think you can follow the trail?” He asked. An alpha's smell was better than a beta's. Charles was able to smell the smoke, but he didn't have a clue where it was coming from, to him it smelled like they were surrounded by the scent, but John's sensitive nose should be able to pick up a trail, maybe even Arthur's scent if they were getting close enough.

John focused on the scent, flaring his nostrils, closing his eyes and slightly parting his mouth to allow the scent to roll over his tongue, fill his senses. “Yeah, it's this way..” He said after a couple of long seconds, feeling some excitement and hope. He hopped onto Old boy, waiting for Charles to do the same and quickly followed after the trail.

They meandered through the dark forest for quite a while, the darkness of the moonless night was relentless, it was getting almost too dark to see anything at all. When it felt like they were about to give up, they spotted light coming up the horizon between the tall trees and looming mountains, the morning sun was already rising again, brightening up the sky in a pale blue. They'd already been wandering for the entire night.

John noted how the scent of the smoke was getting stronger and stronger and he picked up the pace when he thought he caught the smallest hint of Arthur's scent. After a while he was quite posotive it was Arthur's scent, but it got stronger by the second. 

But the alpha's scent as well.

When his eyes caught sight of a small beacon of light in the far distance, he urged Old boy on in a gallop. They rode through the remains of the sharp night frost, evading trees, rocks and prickly bushes, barely visible with the small amount of light that was provided by the morning sun. They broke into a small open clearing.

There in the middle of the dark forest was a small cabin, with smoke coming out of the chimney.


	20. Chapter 20

Albert woke up to a loud bang, the front door swinging open and two men stepping inside the cabin, holding guns. Ollie jumped up, barking and growling at the intruders, he could see Arthur scrambling up to his feet next to him, looking close to panicking. Albert grabbed the nearest object he could find, which unfortunately was a kettle, he quickly stood up, his heart beating wildly inside his chest.

He stepped in front of Arthur and pointed the kettle at the intruders, trying to look intimidating. By their scents, one was alpha and the other beta.

“Step the Hell away from him!” The alpha snarled at him, pointing his gun at him, cocking it.

“Is that you, Marston?” He heard Arthur suddenly speak up behind him.

“…Y-You know these men, Arthur?” Albert tried his best to look imposing, standing in front of Arthur, trying to hide the tremble in his voice.

“Well yeah of course, they're good guys, they're just fine!” Arthur chuckled, his eyes bright as he quickly limped past Albert.

Albert let out a huge breath, his shoulders sagging. “Good heavens..” He muttered and dropped the kettle, clutching his heart as he watched Arthur grab one of the two men and pull him into a tight embrace.

“Goddamnit, John! You’re okay, you goddamn idiot!” Arthur clapped the man on the back. “..’s good to see you, Charles.” He shot at the other man who nodded his head in acknowledgement.

John looked bewildered and awkwardly put his gun back into his holster. “Could say the same to you..” He grumbled, but returned the hug. “You look terrible, Arthur.. What the Hell happened? …Did that son of a bitch do that to you?” John growled, looking sideways, giving Albert a pointed look.

“No, no.” Arthur turned to look over his shoulder at Albert as well and let go off John. “Albert is okay, he helped me out. He fished me out of the water and treated my injuries.” Arthur gave him a small smile and Albert felt his heart flutter. “The man's a real lifesaver, I owe him quite a lot.. I've been quite a burden to him.”

“Oh nonsense, Arthur.” Albert chuckled nervously when the other two men turned to stare at him. Felt like they were watching his every move, especially that other alpha, John's eyes seemed to be filled with distrust. “You owe me nothing.” He quickly added when John kept his glare on him.

“I'll repay you someway.” Arthur grunted, looking quite determined.

And Albert couldn't help thinking of all the wonderful ways Arthur could repay him. 

He started stuttering in embarrassment.

“I have a splendid idea, I'll make us some tea! Please do sit down, gentlemen!” Albert tried to distract himself, laughing nervously. He quickly turned to his small kitchen, feeling multiple eyes bore into his back. 

Arthur turned to the two other men. “How in the Hell did the two of you find me?” He grunted as he carefully sat back down in his chair at the fireplace, still looking surprised at seeing the other two men.

John grunted in annoyance and plopped down on the wooden chair at the small table, watching Ollie sniff his feet. “We followed the trail that stubborn horse of yours left us, sure was a pain in the ass getting here.” He eyed Albert again, still looking distrustful and unhappy with the other alpha. “…You sure that alpha is okay?” He half whispered at Arthur.

Charles clapped a hand on John's shoulder, silencing him. “He’s fine, John.” He said calmly.

John huffed in annoyance and kept his glare on Albert.

Albert felt the pair of eyes on him and looked over his shoulder, catching John's glare yet again. He quickly turned back to what he was doing, chuckling nervously as he listened to them converse. Silently picking up the kettle, he started on making some fresh tea, just hoping they didn't feel like he was infiltrating their little reunion.

“So.. what happened to you, Arthur?” Charles asked as he sat down in the chair opposite of John.

Arthur sighed and scratched his head. “Can't remember all that much..” He grunted. “Remember being cornered after I saw John and Avalon falling.. I jumped off the train and into a river, woke up here. That's pretty much it.”

“We thought as much.” Charles said calmly.

“Still looking a bit black and blue there, Marston.” Arthur turned to John and nodded at the fading bruises on his face, the hint of concern barely visible on his features, hidden behind a teasing smile.

“You're looking none the better, you son of a bitch.” John grunted back at him. “You had us worried, you goddamn asshole. And you're just sitting here on your lazy ass doing nothin' at all.” 

“Aww you were worried ‘bout little ol' me, that's real sweet of you, John.” Arthur shot back, a playful grin teasing at the corner of his lips.

“Shut up, you goddamn asshole..” John growled halfheartedly.

“How are you feeling now, Arthur?” Charles asked to stop the two's bickering. He nodded his head at the numerous fading cuts and bruises that covered the other's arms.

“Sure.. Fine I guess.” Arthur grunted a bit uncomfortably, idly scratching his arms before rolling his sleeves down to hide some of the injuries.

“Arthur's healing process is quite remarkable really.” Albert spoke up. “You should've seen the state he was in a couple of days ago! My, I thought I was looking at a dead man walking!” He exclaimed, watching Arthur from where he was standing in the small kitchen. “Good heavens, never seen a man heal this fast before!”

“Don't think there is a man who has been injured as much as me before..” Arthur grumbled dryly. “I think I must be the unluckiest son of a bitch in this whole goddamn world.”

“Oh nonsense, Arthur!” Albert quipped. “You're lucky to have survived such a tumble through such a wild river!”

Charles watched the two of them with an amused smile. He noted how at ease Arthur seemed with the other alpha. 

“Can you walk with that leg?” Charles asked, nodding his head down at Arthur's bandaged leg.

“Ahh this?” Arthur pointed down at his leg. “I can walk with it just fine. Thankfully it didn't get infected due to Albert's care.” He grunted. “You know… the man's got some amazing shine.. you really ought to try it..” He whispered behind his hand, eyeing Albert. 

Charles raised an amused eyebrow in response, there was a little spark in Arthur's eye, a spark he hadn't seen for a long while.

“Here's some tea, gentlemen!” Albert said, snapping Charles out of his thoughts as the other man put the two cups down on the table, one for John and one for Charles. 

John's eyes followed him with a glare when he turned back to his small kitchen and returned with two more cups, handing one to Arthur. Albert sat down in the chair next to Arthur and sipped on his cup, staring a bit uncomfortably at the two new arrivals.

Arthur coughed in his hand, looking a bit uncomfortable himself. “I.. uhh.. I guess I should introduce you to these two.” He grunted at Albert. “This man here is Charles Smith.” He pointed at Charles who calmly nodded his head in greeting. “And this obnoxious asshole next to him is John goddamn Marston.” John scowled at him, growling a subtle ‘go to Hell' underneath his breath.

“And this man here is Albert Mason.” Arthur clapped a hand on Albert's shoulder. “Better man than all of us combined.”

Albert flushed at the compliment. “V-very drole, Arthur.” He inwardly cursed at his stutter.

John frowned at them and started rummaging through his pocket, snatching a cigarette out of it and putting it between his lips with a small grunt. He grabbed a match and lit it with the heel of his boot.

“Ahh I rather have you not smoking, mister Marston… the smoke makes me a tad bit nauseous.” Albert chuckled nervously, regretting speaking up almost instantly.

John halted and raised an eyebrow, eyed the other man for a couple of long seconds. Lit the cigarette anyway. Before he could bring the cigarette to his lips, Arthur had snatched the offending object out of his hand and threw it in the fireplace.

“What the Hell, Arthur?” John growled.

“The man said he don't want you to smoke, you goddamn idiot.” Arthur growled back, leaning forwards.

John grumbled and grabbed the cup of tea, staring into it. “You don't got anything stronger, some coffee or something else, mister- uhh.. what was it again?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, John.” Arthur growled and turned to Albert. “Don't listen to a goddamn word that comes from that idiot's mouth.”

“It's alright, Arthur.” Albert chuckled nervously, trying to calm the other. “…I'm an alpha, he's an alpha.. it's only natural behavior for him to be distrusting of me.. to be challenging me.”

Arthur grumbled underneath his breath and brought the cup to his lips, taking a large gulp of his tea.

“See?” John sniggered at him. "He doesn't mind."

“Shut your damn trap, Marston.” Arthur growled.

“It's like the two of you are brothers.” Albert said with an amused smile, he hadn't seen this side of Arthur before, it was rather endearing. Even though John hadn't been particularly pleasant towards him so far, he could appreciate the other man caring this deeply for Arthur. It was obvious the other man was doing it out of protectiveness. These two men seemed to genuinely care about Arthur and it was heartwarming.

“Unfortunately this idiot IS my brother. Maybe not by blood, but he still is.” Arthur grumbled.

John huffed at that and took a sip of his tea, scowling down at the warm beverage.

“John.” Charles spoke up again, gaining the other man's attention. “…Let's check with the horses, they had quite a long and rough ride.” Standing up, he moved to the door.

John glanced between Charles and Arthur, but when Charles shot him a pointed look he decided against arguing with the other man.

“Fine..” He grumbled, shooting Albert one last nasty look before following after Charles.

“I'll prepare us some breakfast, you two must be famished.” Albert said, standing up as well, trying to ignore John's stare.

Charles nodded, halting at the door. “Thank you, we appreciate the hospitality.” He said. John grumbled something as they went outside, closing the door behind them.

“I'll help you out.” Arthur grunted moving to stand next to Albert at the small kitchen counter. Their shoulders brushed and Albert felt a gentle tingle going down his spine. He nodded quickly, his breath catching in his throat. He coughed in his hand and leaned down to grab something. “Here’s a.. a can of beans, if you please would like to warm them, Arthur?”

“Sure.” Arthur took the offered tin can and opened it. Taking a spoon, he was careful with his leg when he crouched next to the fire, stirring the beans.

They worked in a comfortable silence and after a while Albert spoke up again. “You've got nice friends, Arthur. Though they gave me quite the scare when they barged inside!” He chuckled, grabbing a large piece of goat cheese wrapped in some paper and started cutting it in pieces. Ollie had moved to sit beside him, looking with his big hungry eyes up at him as he licked his chops, just begging for a treat. “They seem to care a lot about you.” He threw the dog a chunk of cheese and the dog caught it mid-air.

Arthur chuckled. “John has a rather interesting way of showing it, but yeah I guess..” He grunted, stirring the beans. Ollie had moved to sit beside him, greedily eyeing the beans while Arthur smiled at the dog and started scratching him behind his ears. “..‘m sorry for all that.. you know..” He waved his hand, offering Albert an apologetic look.

“Oh no worries, Arthur!” Albert smiled at him, plopping four eggs into a small pan filled with water and placing it at the fire as well. He looked at Arthur and for a couple of seconds he felt like he was hypnotized by the way the warm light of the fire illuminated the other man's handsome features. Arthur's eyes met his and he felt like he could drown in those greenish blue eyes. Quickly breaking the eye contact, Albert stepped away and started chuckling nervously for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“It's a goddamn miracle they were able to find me.” Arthur spoke up again, seemingly oblivious of Albert's unease. “Makes me worry though…”

“How come?” Albert said, doing his best to compose himself.

“Makes me worry other people will be able to find this place as well…” Arthur gave him a long stare before turning back to the beans to stir them. Ollie lay down next to him, still eyeing the can of beans.

“You think they will?”

Arthur shrugged. “I don't know.. one of them seemed pretty persistent, but I surely don't hope so.”

Humming in response, Albert grabbed four plates and placed them on the small table. He cast a couple of glances at Arthur who was staring with a faraway look into the fire.

“Are you feeling okay, Arthur?” Albert asked him carefully. “Last night was a bit… intense after all.”

Arthur quickly looked away from the fire and met his gaze, uncomfortably scratching the back of his head. “Sure..” He grumbled a bit awkwardly, he broke the eye contact again, looking anywhere but at him. “I'm fine..”

“Don't worry, Arthur.” Albert said gently. “You can always come to me if you need some help, you know that, right?”

“I know..” Arthur mumbled, giving him a short but grateful look in return.

………………………………….

“I don't like that goddamn asshole.”

Charles shot the other man an amused look while he hitched Taima to an old birch tree close to the cabin. “Arthur seems to like him.” He replied simply.

“Well, Arthur is a bad judge of character.” John grumbled in return as he hitched Old boy to an other tree nearby. “Didn't you see the way he was ogling Arthur?”

“Hmm, he sure seems fond of Arthur, yes.” Charles agreed with a small smile as he offered Taima some oats he had taken out of his saddlebag. “But I've also noticed how at ease Arthur is around the man.”

“Like I said, Arthur is a bad judge of character.” John growled, leaning against the tree and crossing his arms. “I don't trust that goddamn alpha.”

“Hmm...” Charles hummed in response. “Surely you've noticed how Arthur has changed in a positive way.”

“Not because of that goddamn son of a bitch,” John scowled. “-Arthur's just given some time to lick his wounds.”

“Time he wouldn't be getting back at camp, not around Dutch.” Charles replied calmly, stroking the patterned coat of Taima's neck.

John let out a long sigh, staring off into the distance. Lifting his hat, he ran a hand through his hair. “I just worry, you know..”

“I know.”

“He's my brother, I… just want what's best for him..”

“Staying here might be what's best for him at the moment.” Charles said, meeting the other's eyes.

John sighed again, kicking a small rock. “I know..” He grumbled. “But… doesn't mean I like it.” He went all this way to just agree to leave again empty handed? It was disheartening and the thought made his stomach drop. But even with the physical injuries, John had to agree something had changed when he had looked into Arthur’s eyes back in that cabin. He still seemed off, he still had that haunted look, but he had caught a small sparkle in the other man's eyes as well, a sparkle he hadn't seen for such a long time, even before that awful night more than a month ago.

“..What do we tell Dutch?” He grunted, scrubbing a hand across the stubble of his cheeks.

Before Charles could answer him, a loud shot echoed through the forest, chips of wood flew up in the air where a bullet made impact into the bark of the tree next to John's face.

“Jesus Christ!” John yelled and ducked behind the tree, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He saw Charles unhitching Taima and fly for cover behind an other tree. John quickly set Old boy loose as well, hoping the horse would find safety in the dense forest around them.

More bullets flew past them, one went through the cabin's window and they just hoped the two men had ducked for cover themselves. 

Unsure of where the bullets were coming from, it felt like they were surrounded. The only thing he knew, were the bullets coming from the forest around them, but so far he hadn't seen any men.

John cradled his revolver at his chest. A sharp pain erupted in his left arm and he hissed in pain when a bullet whizzed past his shoulder, a thick line of blood running down his arm. He clutched the wound. Fortunately it wasn't deep, but it sure burned like Hell.

“Shit!” He cursed. “We gotta do something!” He yelled at Charles. 

“I know.” Charles was frowning and even his voice sounded alarmed and agitated.

“Arthur! You okay in there!?” John yelled. 

He felt panic rising when no one answered him.

“Shit!” He cursed and aimed around the tree, taking a couple of shots, not even knowing where he was supposed to be aiming at.

“Arthur!” He yelled again, firing another shot.

But still nothing.

He focused back on his surroundings, his eyes catching sight of some movement behind a tree close by, he shot without hesitating. 

The bullet embedded itself in the man's skull. He didn't stand a chance.

One enemy down, but John had no idea how much more to go.

He reloaded his gun and cocked it as he glanced around the tree again, saw Charles doing the same and landing a successful shot as well. 

More and more bodies fell to the ground of the opposing enemy, but somehow it didn't seem like the crossfire was ceasing. In fact, it felt like every time they killed someone, two new men were placed in return.

“Hold your fire!” A voice suddenly called out from the woods around them.

The gunfire seized and it went eerily silent. John and Charles shared a look.

“You are outnumbered.” The same voice called out, but still no one to be seen. “Just hand me that omega and no one will get hurt if you do.”

“Go to Hell, you son of a bitch! Your men are dropping like flies!” John yelled back, firing a single shot in the woods. Miraculously enough they heard a grunt of pain and a couple of curses. There was a low thud, the sound of a body hitting the ground. John felt amazed by the lucky shot, but couldn't help but feel triumphant as well.

This caused the men in the woods to yell out in anger and start shooting again. John and Charles ducked behind their covers, this time bracing themselves, covering and protecting their heads as the gunfire seemed more deadly than before. This time their aim didn't seem off and splinters of wood flew up in the air around their heads. They didn't want to admit it, but they were in deep trouble. When they saw men surrounding them from both sides, they knew the fight was pretty much over.

“You want me!?” Arthur suddenly called out, his voice barely to be heard above the gunfire. John let out a deep sigh of relief when he heard his brother's voice. 

“Hold your fire!” The voice coming from the woods ordered in response. “Hold your fire!”

It went silent yet again. 

Arthur stepped out of the cabin, his hands raised above his head, covered in blood and John wasn't quite sure whom the blood belonged to.

He saw mister Cullen stepping out into the clearing as well, surrounded by a part of his men who were pointing their guns at them.

“You shot him!” Arthur roared, seething in anger, his teeth gritted into a deep snarl. “You goddamn son of a bitches! You shot him!” He limped towards mister Cullen and out into the open.

“Arthur, stay back! You goddamn idiot!” John yelled at him.

Arthur shot him a quick glance, but continued on anyways.

……………………………….

When he heard his voice he couldn't help the flutter that went through his body. Arthur's voice. Deep and rough, so unlike any other omega's voice. It hadn't even been that long ago since he last saw him, but when he finally did see him again, it was like he was being struck. He couldn't help how his heart was starting to beat faster, thumping wildly inside his chest as he caught the other's scent.

Mister Cullen walked into the clearing in front of the small cabin, walking with confident strides. Surrounded by his men. Surrounded by the forest.

“I finally found you..” Mister Cullen said calmly, the corner of his lips slightly quirking upwards as he eyed the omega in front of him. He eyed the bruises that marred Arthur's body, his blood covered hands. Though it didn't seem like the blood was his. All in all, Arthur looked better than he expected, he hadn't even expected him to be alive after the jump he had made in that wild river. 

“Come here, Arthur.” He said calmly. “You can spare your friends if you just acknowledge that you're mine from now on.”

Arthur growled at him and Cullen couldn't help but find it endearing. 

“Sure you can have me..” the other's voice was dripping with anger and Cullen noted how the other's hands had curled into fists. “…All of me.”

Mister Cullen barely had any time to react before he was tackled to the ground. A fist made impact with his cheek, the punch was like nothing he had ever experienced before and momentarily he could see nothing but stars. Hadn't even noticed he was falling, until he felt himself land roughly on the cold damp forest floor underneath him.

He was quite sure Arthur had jumped on top of him, judging by the weight he felt on top of him, landing merciless blow after blow and mister Cullen had no time to react or even acknowledge what was happening. His brain was ringing and the only thing he could feel besides pain, was the raw anger that oozed from the omega above him.

Feeling dazed and momentarily completely out of it, he’s barely able to acknowledge Arthur’s blue-greenish and furious eyes looking down at him, the omega taking a gun from the holster at his hip. Something in his brain clicked, he recognized the gun, it's his own, the one Arthur had stolen from his room when they were in that train. Arthur cocked the gun and then..

Nothing.

There's no more weight on top of him. His brain had difficulty adjusting to the situation around him. He felt hands on his shoulders and underneath his armpits, lifting him upwards into a sitting position. Ringing… felt like his head was ringing, felt like his brain was throbbing inside his skull. His vision, that was swirling around him, seemed to slowly steady till he was quite certain again he saw only one horizon instead of multiple ones.

“You okay there, boss?” A scarred face appeared in front of him.

He grimaced in response. “Help me.. get me on my feet..” He snarled with a slight slur in his speech.

They helped him up and he slowly looked around, feeling unsteady. He saw the two men surrounded by his own men, their guns pointing at their heads. He saw Arthur being held down by two of his own men as well, roughly being pulled upwards. Mister Cullen let out a sigh of relief.

He was in control again.

He was in control of the situation.

He gritted his bloodied teeth, spitting some blood on the damp forest floor at his feet. The ringing in his head was clearing and he was gaining most of his senses back.   
He could hardly believe this. That goddamn piece of shit had beat him up. 

Again. 

That son of a bitch. 

He swirled around and punched Arthur in the stomach, the other doubling over in the men's hold on him. He wasn't done yet, still feeling absolutely furious. White hot anger running through his system when he grabbed Arthur's head. He got enough sense left him to not punch the other man in the face, he wanted to keep his face pretty. Instead he brought his knee up into the other's ribs. There was a sickening crack and Arthur let out a small grunt of pain as he slumped in the arms holding him up. He was silent through it all, probably too stubborn and too proud to let his pain be heard. Mister Cullen could admire that, even through all the anger he was feeling at the moment.

Turning away, mister Cullen rummaged through the pocket of his dark gray coat, taking out a handkerchief, wiping the blood from his face that was swelling up pretty fast. He glanced around the clearing again, how it lid up by the morning sun shining through the leaves. Seemed like the day was going to be bright and sunny after the sharp night frost. He studied the two men that had been defending the small cabin and its occupants, he had to admit, they had put up quite a fight. He noticed how his own men seemed bitter with the two, landing a couple of hard punches themselves. He let them have their fun, couldn't blame them, the two had killed quite some of his men, probably some had been friends to them.

“Tie them up and put them in the cabin.” He ordered his men, calmly watching them tie the two outlaws up, roughly dragging them over the ground and up to the small building.

“Let go of them..” Arthur growled between gritted teeth, some blood was dripping out of his mouth and down his chin, looking up to shoot that furious stare of his as he started to struggle in his hold.

Mister Cullen turned to give Arthur a cold look. 

“…Wait a second.” He said, raising a hand when they were about to throw the dark skinned man inside the small building. He kept his stare on Arthur and saw some hope flicker through the other's eyes. “Bring me that beta. He might come in useful if this one gets a bit rowdy.” He said calmly as he saw the small hint of hope get crushed in Arthur's eyes.

“Goddamn you, you son of a bitch.” Arthur growled again, increasing his struggling. “Let go off them!”

The men dragged the beta towards him, holding him up by his long hair. Mister Cullen calmly studied him. “I heard there was a dark skinned man wandering around town, asking the locals about the train heist and about me, my guesses that person must've been you.”

The man stayed silent, glaring up at him.

“If he tries anything funny, knock him out cold.”

“Yes sir.” The men nodded their heads and dragged the beta along with them and out of his sight.

A dog had barged outside the cabin when they had dragged that alpha inside, the loyal animal was barking and growling, yapping at one of his men's heels.

He saw how Arthur's struggling increased when the man kicked the dog, the animal letting out a pained yelp, his limbs twitching when he fell to the ground. The grunt cursed and grabbed the dog by the scruff of its neck, dragging the animal's body along with him and throwing it inside the cabin as well.

"There's another alpha in here!" One of his men called out from inside the cabin. "But he looks more dead than alive." He laughed.

"Leave him be." Mister Cullen ordered.

Arthur struggled and struggled, kicked and lashed out, panic overtaking him as he watched how the rest of the men stepped outside again, barring the cabin's door and windows.

Mister Cullen turned and stared at him.

“Burn the place down.” He ordered with cold and calculating eyes.

“Goddamnit, NO!” Arthur yelled as he struggled feverishly in his captors' hold. His arm flailed out of the men's tight grip on him, but before he could do anything with it, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and lost consciousness. 

………………………………….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well shit, sorry for this cliffhanger.  
And I also want to apologize for this late upload. Lots of personal problems I'm working on at the moment. My marriage, my little boy, they will always come first. Also a mean and vicious writers block, but I guess personal problems and a writers block go hand in hand.


	21. Chapter 21

“Shit!” John cursed as he glanced around the small cabin from where he was lying tied up on the floor. They had the door and windows barred and at the fireplace he saw mister Mason lying in a puddle of his own blood, clenching the side of his stomach with his blood drenched hands. He looked pale and his breathing was labored and uneven. The dog that had been thrown inside the cabin after him was slowly scrambling up its shaky feet, whining softly.

John cursed inwardly. He didn't like mister Mason all that much, that much was clear, but the other man seemed to be in a bad way. John didn't like to admit it, but mister Mason didn't seem like a bad guy, didn't seem deserving to get his life ended in such a pathetic way. John started struggling in his bindings, trying to make his was over to the injured man.

He halted when he heard men yelling outside of the cabin, the sound was followed by some rustling noises at the other side of the door and soon after, John was starting to smell a small hint of smoke. The scent gradually got stronger and stronger. And he was quite positive the smoke wasn't coming from the fireplace. Glancing around the small cabin, he noted how a gray fog was starting to form inside.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” He growled and increased his struggling. They were gonna burn the place down? With them still inside? He needed to get out of these bindings, and fast.

He coughed, his lungs filling with the smoke, sucking the oxygen out of him. Struggling harder, the wooden floor scraped his arms as he wriggled over to mister Mason's pale form. The dog was pawing at the door, whining softly, probably panicking with the smoke ordering its instincts to run.

“Mason!” He let out a raspy cough when he was close enough to see the other alpha's eyes staring up at the ceiling. “Mason!” He yelled again, this time the other man’s eyes met his own, blinking slowly, he was looking very disoriented.

“Am I.. dying?” Mister Mason mumbled, his eyes were widening, looking close to panicking. He was indeed looking deathly pale and to be honest, John wasn't quite sure himself if the other man was going to make it.

“No, you're not.” John opted instead, hoping he was able to hide his doubts from the other man. “But if you don't help me get out of these goddamn restraints, we both will! They're burning this place down as we speak!”

That seemed to get mister Mason out of his stupor.

“I-I don't know.. if I can move..” Mister Mason said weakly.

“You can.” John growled, trying to stay patient and calm.“Just try to get these restraints off my wrists, I can do the rest myself. I'll get us out.” He said urgently as he glanced around. More and more smoke was filling up the small space and from the corner of his eye, he saw a bright, red glow forming where the door was supposed to be.

The dog was starting to whine harder, walking circles around the room and eventually crawling under the bed to hide itself.

“There's a knife in the holster at my leg.” John growled, rolling onto his side so the other man could reach for it easier. He let out another raspy cough, felt like he was choking with every breath he took. “Just cut the ropes around my wrists, and I'll do the rest.. You can do that for me, Mason?”

He heard mister Mason coughing, but he thought he caught the smallest hint of a nod. 

Mister Mason slowly sat upright, wheezing for breath and clenching his stomach, he grappled at John's leg and took the knife with trembling fingers. John could feel the other man fumbling on his wrists behind him. Probably wasn't more than a couple of long seconds, but felt like an eternity before he felt the ropes get looser around his wrists. Flexing his arms, he pulled himself free from the rest of the rope. He let out a deep sigh of relief and quickly grabbed the knife from mister Mason's shaking and blood covered hands. He sat upright and quickly cut the rope around his ankles as well, pocketing his knife back into his holster. Rummaging through his pocket, he took out his bandana, covering his nose and mouth before tying it at the back of his head. His throat and lungs were burning as if he was breathing the fire itself, he was starting to feel lightheaded and he knew he had to get them out of here fast.

He stood on shaky legs and noticed how the fire was licking its way up to the ceiling where the door had been. He moved away from it, slipping his hands under mister Mason's armpits and dragging him furthest away from the fire and into the small kitchen. When standing, he immediately noticed how much more suffocating the smoke was, his breathing raspy and getting labored, sweat forming on his forehead and trickling down the sides of his face. It was getting hot, so hot..

He glanced around again and noticed the barred window in the small kitchen. He grabbed the chair he had sat on an hour before, before all this shit had happened, held it above his head and smashed the glass, started pushing it into the wooden barricade. It creaked loudly, though John wasn't so sure if the noise had come from the barred window or from the ceiling above him that was slowly starting to collapse under the pressure of the fire.

It gave in. The wood of the barred window thankfully. 

And thankfully the wood of the ceiling still seemed to be holding up, although barely.

There was no time to waste and John lifted mister Mason over his shoulder, his shirt staining with the other man's blood. He wasn't gentle with the other man when he threw him through the small window, didn't care to be calm and careful while the whole area around him seemed to be burning down to a crisp. Felt like his blood was starting to boil by the immense heat that surrounded him.

He jumped up and crawled through the small window himself, letting himself fall through, falling on top of mister Mason with a grunt in a not so elegant way. 

Sweet air, sweet fresh oxygen filled his lungs as he slipped the bandana off his face. And he couldn't help but lie there for a couple of long seconds.

He was snapped out of his daze when he heard loud creaking, followed by a part of the ceiling collapsing. He quickly jumped up, dizzy and disoriented and dragged the both of them into the safety of the forest that surrounded the burning cabin. He let mister Mason lean against a tree and he slumped against another tree himself. They sat there for a couple of long seconds, coughing and gasping for air.

“Ollie… where is he?” Mister Mason mumbled weakly.

“…What?” John growled, his voice raspy, his breathing uneven.

“My.. dog… Ollie…”

“Shit..” John cursed. “That goddamn stupid animal… it's still inside? Shit…”

Mister Mason shot him a worried look, his brows drawn together.

John didn't doubt, he knew it was crazy, but still he didn't doubt when he jumped onto his shaky feet and dragged his weary body back to the burning cabin. Spotting an axe lying at the roots of an old birch tree, he took it with him, gripping the handle tightly in his clammy hands. He really didn't want to go back through that small window and into the burning cabin and by the looks of the flames flaring out of that very same window, it wasn't much of an option anymore anyway. 

He made his way with shaky steps to the part of the cabin that still seemed mostly intact, the part of the cabin where he had seen the dog scurrying under the bed. He started hacking into the wood of the cabin with his last remaining energy, chips of wood flying up in the air as he struck it over and over again.

He knew there was a big chance the dog wasn't even alive anymore, but at least he should try.

Fortunately it didn't take all that long to get through the wood and he was able to tear off some of the wooden boards himself. The hole wasn't big, but it was big enough to get his head and shoulders through. 

He was hit by the heat inside the cabin, by the intense and suffocating bright orange atmosphere around him. But surprisingly enough the bed was still intact and surprisingly enough his eyes spotted black and white fur not more than three feet away from him. 

But the dog didn't move when John tentatively touched its head..

“C..ome here, you goddamn stupid animal..” John wheezed and grabbed the dog by the cuff of its neck, dragging it over the creaking floorboards, through the hole and out into the open air.   
He let out a small sigh of relief when he saw the animal's paw twitch ever so slightly when he dragged the dog with him and dropped it next to its owner on the damp forest floor.

John fell onto his ass and slumped against a tree, looking up at the smoke filled sky, gasping for breath. Every breath he took felt heavy and painful, his body was exhausted and his head was throbbing like crazy, felt like he had been dragged through the pits of Hell and he guessed that sounded about right.

He wanted to sleep, close his eyes and rest his weary body. How long had it been since he had last slept? 

Mister Mason twitched next to him, staring at him from where he was leaning heavily against his tree, looking deathly pale. His blood stained hand was curling through the fur of his dog, the animal was still lying motionless next to him, but John thought he saw the dog's chest moving up and downwards ever so slightly.

“T..Thank you… mister Marston…” Mister Mason mumbled weakly, his other hand was still gripping at the wound on his stomach.

John scrubbed a hand across the stubble of his cheeks when he looked at the other man, knowing it wasn't quite the time to get some sleep, even if his body was begging for it. He groaned when he sat upright and made his way over to mister Mason.

“You know.. if the bullet's still inside..?” He croaked, it hurt to speak, his voice hoarse and scratchy by the burning of his throat, he let out a raspy cough into his hand. “You did.. get hit by a bullet, right?”

Mister Mason nodded slowly. “Yeah.. I think so..” He mumbled weakly.

John was quite sure he wouldn't get much more useful answers out of the other man and grabbed the other's blood soaked shirt, moving it up to inspect the injury. There was a clean hole in the side of the other man's stomach and at the other side there was another one. Seemed like the bullet had gone straight through him. Fortunately it did, John wasn't much of a fan digging inside other people's stomachs.

But there was still a steady trickle of blood leaking out of the wound. The amount was alarming enough. And John knew it would lead to mister Mason bleeding out over time if left untreated.

He glanced over his shoulder at the burning cabin and back to the injured man lying in front of him. He slowly stood up and made his way over to the cabin, took a couple of burning logs and made his way back over to mister Mason. He crouched and placed the logs together on the ground, hesitating for a couple of seconds before taking his knife out and placing it in the burning embers. He whistled for his horse, just hoping the animal was still nearby and okay, hoping the fire hadn't spooked him off. It took a couple of long seconds before he heard a familiar whinny, saw Old boy coming towards him in a skittish trot. Eyeing the burning cabin with big eyes, his nostrils flaring. The horse halted next to him and John stroked its neck and quickly moved to the back of the horse to rummage through his saddlebag, taking out some clean bandages and stuffing them inside his pocket. He also took out a flask of water, taking a couple of large gulps to ease his burning throat, it didn't help all that much. He hesitated for a couple of long seconds, but also took a bottle of rum out of the bag. John hit Old boy on its back and watched the horse scurry off again. He crouched back down next to mister Mason and eyed the blood that was starting to stain the ground around him.

“Mister Mason… uhh Albert..” He spoke up carefully, grabbing the other man's lower arm in what he hoped seemed like a gentle gesture, hoping to offer the other man some comfort. He knew he was shit at it.

Mister Mason slowly looked at him, his pale complexion a stark contrast with the burning cabin behind him.

“I.. uhh.. have to cauterize the wound, or else you'll bleed out…” John said quickly.

Mister Mason gave him a blanc look. “Y-You what..?” He mumbled.

“I have to stop the bleeding.” John handed the other man the bottle of rum. “Take some, it'll help with the pain..”

Mister Mason opened his mouth, probably to say something, but closed it again, nodding silently. He took the bottle and unscrewed the cap, taking a couple of big gulps, which seemed quite out of character to John even if he didn't really know the other man all that well. 

John grabbed his knife from the fire. By the looks of it, it seemed scorching hot. Mister Mason was watching him silently when he moved next to him and rolled the other man's shirt up. 

“Let's get this over with..” John grumbled. “You're gonna be alright, okay..?” He didn't quite know who he was trying to convince, mister Mason or himself, probably the latter. 

Mister Mason gave the smallest of nods and looked anywhere but the knife.

It was as much as a permission John knew he was going to get and he hovered the scorching knife closer to the wound. He hesitated for a couple of long seconds before pressing the knife into the opening of the wound and mister Mason let out a cry of pain, moving away from the knife, he was twitching and already seemed close to crying. John moved with him, digging the scorching tip of the knife deeper into the wound till he saw no more blood seeping out. At this point, mister Mason was turning into a mess, having fallen onto his side, twitching and groaning, blinded by pain.

John removed the knife and threw the blade into the fire again, he unscrewed the bottle of rum and poured a generous amount of the liquid over the burning wound. Mister Mason cried out again and slumped back down on the ground, looking exhausted.

Unfortunately he wasn't done yet. John knew he also needed the cauterize the wound on Albert's back where the bullet had come out. He moved quickly, carefully turned mister Mason on his stomach and grabbed the knife from the fire, no need to torture the man any longer than necessary. 

He didn't hesitate this time, held mister Mason still with a firm hand and pressed the scorching knife into the wound, searing it close. He quickly grabbed the bottle of rum again and poured a generous amount over the burning skin. Mister Mason cried out, his cries sounding weak and fatigued, too tired and drained to do much else. He slumped on the ground and for a moment, John thought he had killed the other man.

“You okay..?” John grunted as he lifted the other man into a sitting position again. He softly slapped mister Mason's cheek when the other didn't respond. 

“Y-Yeah…” Mister Mason mumbled weakly as he cracked one bleary eye open. “J-Just.. give me a second…”

John nodded and tried his best to stay patient as he wrapped the bandages around mister Mason's middle. He was goddamn exhausted himself. He wasn't known for being a patient man and right now he felt like he was going to explode. Mister Mason's alpha scent was prickling his already sensitive senses and he just wanted to sleep and find some comfort in his omega's arms and her sweet scent, she always made him feel like home.

But there was no time for daydreaming, he needed to come up with a plan. Arthur and Charles were nowhere to be seen, he couldn't even catch a whiff of their scents, as well as mister Cullen’s and his men. It was tempting to just leave mister Mason behind and try to chase them. They shouldn't be too far off, so he might just be able to catch up with them if he pushed Old boy to his limits. 

But he was badly outnumbered, there was a slim chance of getting Charles and Arthur out of there safe. And he wasn't stupid. There was a reason mister Cullen had taken Charles along as well. Charles was taken captive so mister Cullen would have leverage over any situation evolving around them. If John would attack, he was quite positive mister Cullen would make sure Charles would feel the consequences.

Leaving mister Mason wasn't much of an option anyway. John wasn't heartless, he might not like mister Mason, but the other man seemed like a genuine good guy, an innocent bystander in all this mess. Besides the fact that Arthur seemed really fond of him, John knew Arthur was doing better because of the other man, he just couldn't leave him here to rot.

It might be a foolish decision, but it was his only option at the moment. He should head back to camp, to the gang. Get mister Mason treated and form up a plan with Dutch and Hosea to get Arthur and Charles out. He was quite sure Dutch was going to be goddamn impossible, probably would be even less happy with mister Mason than John was.

He slowly picked up his aching body and stood up on shaky legs, shot mister Mason a quick look before making his way over to the small stable that he had seen standing near the cabin. There were two horses inside, Arthur's horse and a small chestnut morgan, both looking awfully skittish cause of all the fire and smoke. He stepped inside and tried to calm them as much as he could before making quick work of tacking them up.

He took the reins and led the two horses outside, whistling for Old boy as he walked back to mister Mason's pale form still leaning against the old birch tree.

Hitching the horses to a nearby tree, John crouched down next to mister Mason again. “We need to go.” He grunted as he took mister Mason's arm and slung it over his shoulder. He heard the other man groan in pain as he dragged him to where he had hitched the little chestnut morgan and helped him up in the saddle, which was easier said than done. He just didn't have the energy to lift another man up a horse, was almost damn near impossible when he was in good health. He would never admit it out loud, but he was slightly jealous how easily Arthur could lift people up and carry them around, as if they weighed nothing more than a bay of hay.

It took a couple of attempts and with the help of mister Mason clinging onto the saddle, John was able to get him up in the saddle. John grumbled, wiping the sweat and root off his forehead.

“W-Where’s Arthur..?” Mister Mason mumbled as he slumped in the saddle.

John cast him a quick glance, his brows narrowing. “Those men from before.” He grunted as he took his lasso from Old boy's saddle. “..They took Arthur.” He used the rope to tie mister Mason to his saddle, hoped it would be sufficient enough to keep him from falling off. He really didn't want to get mister Mason up and behind him on Old boy, his scent was beginning to get a bit too overbearing and his instincts were starting to mess him up, stress him out. It always happened to him whenever he was around unfamiliar alphas. After a while, it would get hard for him to control his instincts. He knew he wasn't much of a pleasant man, but right now he was irritated and tired and he knew he would be even less pleasant than he usual was.

Mister Mason kept quiet for a couple of long seconds, a worried look spreading over his pale features. “…I hope he's okay.” He mumbled.

“Right now I reckon you should be worrying about yourself, mister Mason.” John grunted, he lifted the dog and strapped it to the morgan as well. The animal's breathing was labored and heavy and he just hoped the dog was going to be fine. Jack loved dogs, bringing a dead dog back to camp would most probably scar the child and he would most certainly get scolded at by Abigail.

He stroked the animal's head and sighed. What a mess they all got themselves in.

He gave the dog one more quick pat and moved to the front of the horse, taking the reins and tying them to Old boy's saddle before lifting himself up in his saddle as well. He took a deep breath, his lungs and throat still aching badly, his vision swimming ever so slightly. How he would kill to get some rest. 

He spurred Old boy on in a steady walk and whistled at Avalon, the horse started following him almost immediately, walking along with them with a slight limp.

“T-They.. burned my home..” John heard mister Mason mumble. He turned to look over his shoulder at the other man, there was a faraway look in his eyes as he watched his cabin burn to a crisp.

“They did..” John sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face, feeling sympathy. “..I'm sorry.” 

“A-All my pictures… my books, my cameras…”

John let out a deep sigh and went back to staring ahead of them. “We'll sort it out, mister Mason..” Even to his own ears it sounded like a lie. He knew he wouldn't be able to do all that much for the other man’s situation, but staying silent, saying nothing, didn't feel right either. At least he should try and offer the other man some comfort.

Mister Mason kept quiet.

John sighed again and spurred Old boy on, knowing he was going to the opposite direction from where he wanted to go. There was still a long road ahead of them before reaching camp.

………………………………….

Arthur woke up with a start, his eyes wide open in an instant. Panic filled him when he noticed the darkness around him and when he tried to move his arms, he found out he couldn't. He was sitting upright leaning against a wall, his wrists tied together up above his head. He grunted in pain, his stomach and ribs were aching and the back of his head was throbbing in a bad way. He had a lot of trouble calming his quick and uneven breathing, his mind was going wild. The restraints on his body made him feel like he was back with those alphas again, made him constantly relive that awful night over and over again. Once again he could feel those rough hands on his body, gripping at him in the dark, their mocking laughter ringing in his ears.

He tried to calm himself, searched for anything he could focus on, a sound, a smell, the smallest sliver of light. Something to ground him. He couldn't find anything that would be able to give him some form of comfort, only the scent of more alpha. Mister Cullen's scent, heavy and musky, overwhelmingly so, it was all around him, even in his clothes, even rubbed in his scent glands, could feel it crawl over his skin. 

He absolutely reeked of the other man.

He shifted and he was grateful there was no pain coming from his lower body. He let out a deep trembling sigh of relief and pulled on the restraints on his wrists, they didn't budge. Instead he heard the rattling of the chains and he closed his eyes, decided to focus on the rattling sound instead of the intense scent all around him.

The sound helped him calm himself a bit, ground himself. He focused on his thoughts and all of a sudden his brain was flooded with memories, and he couldn't help how a feeling of dread washed over him. He remembered John and a badly injured Albert left in a burning cabin, was the last thing he had seen before they knocked him out cold. Arthur felt himself choke, a lump forming in his throat and his stomach in knots as he thought about the two other men. He wanted to hope they were okay, he so badly wanted to believe they were okay, but it was hard to.

Especially Albert, the last time he had seen the man, he had been lying in a puddle of his own blood, a bullet gone straight through his stomach, looking deadly pale. Surviving a severe gunshot wound and getting out of a burning cabin, it felt like too much of a miracle. 

Albert was most probably dead.

He choked on a breath. 

He barely knew the man, known him for not much longer than a week, but he couldn't help the feeling of loss, couldn't help how the sadness washed over him, and the feeling was intense. And the guilt he felt even more. It was his fault, it was all his goddamn fault, he should've left the cabin the moment he had been able to walk, he shouldn't have put Albert’s life in danger. 

He had been incredibly selfish.

And Albert had paid for it with his life.

Arthur thumped the back of his aching head into the wall behind him. The pain it brought gave him some relief, felt like a distraction, he focused on it, he would do anything to not think about Albert and John at the moment. The physical pain had always been a lot easier to deal with than the mental pain.

He continued thumping his head till the ringing in his brain prevented him from doing so any longer. He slumped in his restraints, his chin resting on his chest as he stared into the darkness. He felt empty, completely void of any emotions or thoughts at the moment and that was okay for now. It was better this way, this way he couldn't feel the hurt, couldn't feel the ache in his chest.

How he wished he could just die. Why carry on? His life brought him nothing but pain. He would never be able to cope with the guilt. Albert was dead. John and Charles had come all this way just to end up dead as well.

He snapped out of his stupor and almost immediately he felt all the intense emotions washing over him again, almost felt like the emotions were drowning him.

Charles. 

Shit.. Goddamn it.

Mister Cullen and his men had taken Charles along with them. But there was no sign of the other man, not even his scent, nothing. 

Maybe they had killed him as well..

It added to his distress and suddenly it felt like he could explode from the intensity of it all.

There was just too much that was Wrong. If he tried to escape from one disturbing and painful thought, another one would jump him full force. He gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, not knowing what to do anymore. He was stuck, cornered from every possible angle, physically and mentally.

And he was so goddamn exhausted.

For his whole goddamn life he has always been fighting and now.. he just didn't want to anymore.

He just wanted it to end. All of it. 

He choked on a sob and started thumping his head into the wall again, this time harder.

All of a sudden a door opened and a bright light poured into the darkness. The stark silhouette of a tall man appeared in the doorway. Arthur halted and hadn't noticed he had stopped breathing till he let out a deep breath he didn't realize he had been holding. It felt like he was dreaming, or rather, he was having a nightmare. Or maybe he had finally gone crazy.

The man slowly stepped inside and Arthur's senses were flooded by the familiar scent of him. There was a clicking sound and the dark room was enveloped in light, in less than a second the dark silhouette changed into the image of mister Cullen, slowly making his way over to him.

Arthur started struggling hard in his restraints, overcome by rage when he caught sight of the other man. Mister Cullen halted in front of him, but said nothing, just looked down at him in silence.

“You goddamn piece of shit!” Arthur roared. “You son of a bitch!” He tried to lash out with his legs, tried with all his might to kick the other man who stood so close to him, but just out of reach. His injured leg was throbbing like Hell, but he didn't care, how he wished he could beat the other man into a bloody pulp.

Mister Cullen kept silent and just continued watching him, a cigarette balanced between his lips. Half of his face was covered in dark bruises and his eyes were cold and depthless, no emotions to be found. He brought his hand up and took a long drag of the cigarette, let it fill his lungs before exhaling the smoke up into the air, his eyes never leaving Arthur's.

“You killed them! You goddamn son of a bitch!” Arthur roared again, struggling so hard he felt the skin on his wrists tear, how he wished he could rip the other man apart. He would, with his bare hands if he had the chance.

Mister Cullen chuckled slowly. “Not all of them.” He said calmly, the look in his eyes was intense. “Not yet anyway..” He whistled and a couple of seconds later men rushed inside the room, dragging along an all too familiar looking man.

Arthur halted in his thrashing and just stared, relief and dread washing over him all at the same time.

Charles. 

He was alive, but beaten down, covered in blood and bruises, barely conscious. The other man slowly looked up, half of his face covered by strands of messy dark hair, one of his eyes seemed to be swollen shut. He stared back at Arthur, but kept his mouth shut, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Mister Cullen dared to step closer, leaning down to grab Arthur's chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes again. 

“You see, Arthur. Whether he lives depends on you.” He said as a sly smile appeared on his face.


	22. Chapter 22

It was getting dark, rain drizzling down from the sky above them. The weather was solemn, seemed to mirror John’s mood as he steered Old boy into the trail that led back to the camp, feeling slightly anxious and extremely exhausted.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw Albert slumped in his horse's saddle, the long ride hadn't been easy on him either.

John sighed, Dutch would be none too pleased, that he was sure of. Bringing an unfamiliar and injured alpha back to camp and having to bring the news Arthur and Charles have been captured by that mister Cullen. John was beginning to doubt he had made the right decision, he still had the option of leaving before they noticed he was back. Pulling on the reins, he halted Old boy and looked over his shoulder again, maybe he should head to Valentine instead..

“Who's there!” He heard a voice call out from the darkness of the forest around him, by the sound of the voice, it was Bill.

Well shit, no more option of leaving unnoticed. He groaned.

“It’s John! You dumbass.” He yelled back, not really able to hide his annoyance. His throat and lungs were still burning and it hurt to talk, but at least it didn't feel like he was choking anymore. He sighed and spurred his horse on in a slow walk, he wasn't particularly eager to get to Dutch fast.

“Oh shit, John, you're back!” He heard the other alpha hurry over to him, his face appearing when he lid the lantern he was holding in his hands, his clothes were drenched by the rain. “You look like shit.” He noted when he grabbed Old boy's reins in one hand and held the lantern up to check on him.

“Thanks.. you too.” John grumbled in return.

“You know, Dutch was pretty mad when he found out you had left.” There was a lopsided grin on Bill's face now. Always happy when he could point out the golden boy ain't all that golden.

John sighed and spurred Old boy on, pulling on the reins. “Was he now?” He grunted in annoyance. He really wasn't in the mood for Bill's shit.

“Yeah, he was.” Bill tightened his hold on the reins, not letting go. Old boy twirled around him.

John growled at him. He was too tired, too exhausted. “Let go, Bill.” He warned.

Bill ignored him and peered around him, studying the small horse and its owner who's reins were tied to the back of John's saddle. His nostrils flared as he tried to get a whiff of the unfamiliar man, but it was hard to with the rain pouring down on them and mister Mason's scent getting weaker. He started growling when he eventually caught mister Mason's scent. “Who's that?” His voice and stance changed dramatically, going from alert to tense in seconds. “And where's the rest?”

John spurred Old boy on again, this time harder, pulling the reins out of Bill's grip. “None of your goddamn business. I need to speak to Dutch, where is he?”

“You bringing an alpha back to camp, boy?” Bill snarled, ignoring his question as he tried to keep up with him.

John ignored him and urged Old boy in a quick trot, pulling the chestnut morgan and mister Mason along with him.

“Hey, I'm talking to you, Marston!” He heard Bill yell out behind him as he quickly rode through the small forest and into the open clearing of horseshoe overlook. He steered his horse to where he saw Hosea sitting, reading a book underneath his tent, he noted how the tent wasn't doing much keeping the rain out. 

Hosea looked up at him and quickly put his book down, John could see the way Hosea's brows rose in surprise when he saw him, his features lid up in the dimmed light of the lantern next to him.

“John.” He said and stood up, his voice a bit urgent when he caught the state the other man was in. He stepped into the rain and gently grabbed John's leg. “Pierson! Miss Grimshaw!” He yelled as he turned to look over his shoulder. 

John caught the quick glance Hosea had shot to mister Mason, but he opted to stay silent about it, so John did the same.

“You okay, son?” Hosea asked.

John wanted to respond he was just fine, but already got interrupted.

“That goddamn idiot took an alpha back to camp!” They heard Bill yell out as he rushed over to them, already out of breath.

“I can tell, Bill.” Hosea growled back at him. “Now get lost.”

“But..”

“Get… lost, Bill.” Hosea snarled and in that moment, Hosea must've been the most terrifying beta John had ever seen before.

Bill grumbled in anger, lowering his head and walked away with big steps, seemed to walk in the direction of Dutch's tent.

John didn't care much, he needed to speak to Dutch anyway. Slipping off his saddle, he tightly grabbed the saddle horn, preventing himself from falling onto the ground, he could feel Hosea's hands holding onto his shoulders, helping him stand on his shaky legs. He was so goddamn tired.

Miss Grimshaw stepped up to them, soon followed by mister Pierson, worried looks crossing over their features, he saw the way miss Grimshaw eyed mister Mason with a weary look.

“He needs treatment, Hosea.” John grunted as he pointed a finger towards Albert. “He helped Arthur..” He continued when he saw some doubt in the other man's eyes.

Hosea just nodded and turned to Pierson and miss Grimshaw. “You heard the man.” He ordered.

The two of them nodded and went to mister Mason, seemed like Tilly and Lenny had came over as well, helping them lift mister Mason off his horse.

“You goddamn idiot!” 

John heard the familiar voice of his wife, his mate, Abigail. 

His home. 

A pleasant tingle went through his body, and his heart warmed when he caught sight of her, little Jack held tightly in her arms as she rushed towards him.

“John! You goddamn fool of a man!” She said as she rushed into his open arms, he enveloped her and Jack into a tight embrace and kissed the mop of hair on Jack's head, taking his scent in, did the same to Abigail. She stepped away and frowned when she glanced at the blood on his arm and shoulder. “Look at you. All covered in blood..” She scowled as she pressed her face into his neck again, taking his scent in.

“Ain't mine..” John grumbled and pointed a thumb at mister Mason who was being carried away by the other gang members. “It's his.”

Abigail grabbed his upper arm where the bullet had torn his skin and he hissed in pain.

“Okay, sorry! That IS mine.” He hissed when she didn't let go.

“You goddamn fool. Why can't you, for once, return to me in one piece!”

John opened his mouth to respond to her, but closed it again, just pulled her and Jack into a tight hug again. He looked over her shoulder and watched how mister Mason was laid down where Hosea had sat reading a few minutes ago.

“Let me treat that arm of yours, John.” Abigail said, this time her voice was a bit softer, a bit more gentle. She put Jack down in front of her, her hands resting on the boy's shoulders. 

John nodded absentmindedly. “I reckon I gotta talk to Dutch first..”

Abigail sighed and tucked a loose strand of wet hair behind her ear, her eyes never leaving him. “..Looks like you've been through Hell, all covered in soot and blood..”

“..Feels like I have.” John grunted, his eyes still on mister Mason's pale form, they had placed the drenched dog next to him. He focused back on his wife and his son, ruffled his boy's wer hair.

“Where's uncle Arthur?” Jack asked, looking up at him. “Mama told me you were gonna look for him.”

“Oh hush, child!” Abigail gently grabbed Jack's shoulders and started guiding him to their tent. “It's time for you to get to bed.” She looked back over her shoulder and caught John's eyes. “You come to me to get that arm treated when you’re done talking to Dutch, you hear me?”

John just nodded and watched her go. He let out a deep sigh, looking up at the dark sky pouring down on him, felt the trickles of rain going down his face. He was back at camp, back with his family, he was safe. But he felt terrible. He had gone to retrieve his brother, he and Charles both had. Instead he had returned with an injured stranger and a drenched dog, without Charles and no Arthur. Dutch certainly wouldn't be all too pleased with him and his failure. He sure as Hell wasn't pleased with himself.

“John.” 

He was snapped out of his thoughts, saw Dutch standing a couple of feet away from him, looking dead calm.

Speaking of the devil.

“Come with me, we'll speak in private.” He said, his voice was tense and John could hear the faint snarl rumbling in his throat. He turned on his heel and John followed after him to his tent, both staying silent. Dutch let him enter first, went inside as well and closed the tent flaps behind him. He turned to John, blocking the exit.

“What the Hell were you thinking, John?” Dutch snarled at him, his voice low and dangerous. Seemed there was no time for formalities. “Leaving camp without talking to me. Going on your own.” He stepped up to John, looked him dead in the eyes, his chin held up high, oozing dominance.

“I needed to find Arthur.” John growled back at him, stood his ground and squared his shoulders. “I'm not some kind of dog needin' to ask for goddamn permission.”

Dutch growled at him, his brows furrowing even deeper as he stepped closer to him, their eyes never breaking contact. Whoever looked away first, would lose the unspoken battle between them.   
And John wasn't planning on losing the battle.

“You went to find Arthur, but instead you return with some injured alpha.” Dutch spat, his voice sounding mocking and angry at the same time. “Please do explain, cause I have difficulty understanding this.”

“He saved Arthur's goddamn life, Dutch. We owe him as much.”

“I just can't get my head around it, John.” Dutch said slowly. “He saved Arthur, but still Arthur's not here? He has an interesting way of saving a man.”

John growled in frustration and immediately cursed himself when he saw the smallest hint of triumph flashing through Dutch's eyes. He shouldn't be falling for Dutch's mockery, he knew better than that.

“He took care of Arthur's injuries when he found him. You know.. when we left Arthur behind and he had to jump off that goddamn train to save himself.” John growled. “He took care of Arthur while we hurried back to camp to lick our own wounds.” 

“I did what I had to do, John.” Dutch said sharply. “I did what was best for the family, I did what was best for you.”

“You should've gone back for him, Dutch!” John snapped. “You could've left me with Javier, Hell! Even with Micah if it meant getting Arthur back!” He curled his hands into fists, stepping even closer to the other man. “And now Arthur and Charles are captured by that goddamn rat of a man!”

“Where are they? ..who captured them?” Dutch said slowly.

“That alpha.. mister Cullen did.”

“Cullen..” Dutch repeated slowly. “...And you just let him?”

“We were outnumbered, Dutch. We didn't stand a goddamn chance!”

“I can't believe this.” Dutch broke the eye contact, turned and slammed his fist into the table next to him. “You let that alpha take Arthur?”

“Don't be a goddamn hypocrite, Dutch! You would've let that man take Arthur when we left him at that goddamn train!” John was straining his throat too much, a dry cough passed his lips, his lungs aching.

“I..” Dutch growled slowly, leaning with his hands on the table, looking up at him. “..I didn't want to leave him behind, John.”

“Then why did you, Dutch? After everything that happened to Arthur the last couple of weeks..” John spat. “..you were prepared to just leave him in that alpha's clutches. Didn't even send a proper rescue party afterwards.”

“I…” Dutch opened his mouth and closed it again, his fingernails digging into the wood of the table. He kept silent.

Dutch seemed uncomfortable. Maybe insecure even.. 

Was he feeling guilty?

John had never seen the normally confident leader like this before.

He was distracted from his thoughts when the tent flaps were pushed open and Hosea stepped inside.

“Calm down, the two of you. We can all hear you from outside.” He said as he looked at the both of them, his eyes lingered on Dutch, probably noticing the discomfort in the other man. He rose a brow, almost unnoticeably so.

John glanced back at Dutch and noticed how the older man had regained his composure within seconds.

“Sit down, you two.” Hosea ordered and John always felt amazed how everyone seemed to listen to every order that came out of the beta's mouth.

He flopped down on the cot and Dutch did the same on the wooden chair at the small table, both staying silent.

Hosea turned to him. “Now son, please tell me what happened. Tell me about that injured alpha you brought along with you.” He spoke calmly.

John sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair, heard the pitter-patter of the rain on the tent's canvas. “His name is Albert Mason. I don't know him well, but he saved Arthur's life after he found him, looking more dead than alive.” He said. “Arthur had jumped off the train and into a wild river to escape.”

Hosea kept his eyes on him, staying silent, but nodded, urging him to continue. 

“Early this morning, Charles and I found him at mister Mason's cabin in the middle of the woods nearby Applebridge. But soon after we were surrounded and outnumbered by many of Cullen's men. They took Arthur and Charles, left me and mister Mason to die in a burning cabin.” His throat and lungs were still burning and his body was begging for some much needed rest.

“I see.” Hosea said, looking to be in thought for a couple of seconds. “You did well deciding to come back to us first, son.”

“I really wanted to follow Arthur and Charles.” John said. "Maybe I should have, at least to figure out where that man has taken them."

“Letting us know first was the wise decision, getting yourself shot and killed would have been unwise.” Dutch interjected and John looked at him, raising his brows in surprise.

“You better take some rest, son. You look exhausted." Dutch continued, not meeting his eyes. “Me and Hosea will figure out a plan to get Charles and Arthur back with us.” He scrubbed a hand over his cheeks, and suddenly John could see the worry and exhaustion written all over his features.

“I can help.” John tried, but already knew the answer.

“Dutch is right, you need rest, John.” Hosea said, walking up to him to clap a gentle hand on his shoulder, urging him to stand up. “We'll talk in the morning after you’ve had some sleep. Me and Dutch will start on forming up a plan.”

John stood up, a bit hesitatingly, but gave in. He was indeed tired. Very tired.

He just nodded and gave the two men one more look before stepping out of the tent and into the rain. He walked, not really thinking, just following the familiar path to his own tent. Stepping inside, he was met with the scents of his wife and his son, his family, his home.

He dropped on his cot where Abigail was sitting and enveloped her into a tight hug, breathing in her calming scent, lavender and blackberries.

He was home.

………………………………………

Arthur woke up from a restless sleep. For a short but sweet moment he didn't know where he was until his brain got flooded by memories of the night before. His breath stocked, remembering dark and cruel eyes, as if staring deep into his soul.

He remembered about Charles, he remembered about John, he remembered about Albert.

He gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, focusing on the feeling of his aching shoulders and back, forced upright in an uncomfortable angle. How he wished he could forget about everything. Amnesia sounded like a blessing. 

Death sounded like a blessing.

He could bash his head into a bloody pulp against the hard surface behind him, he could stop eating and drinking. Death was an alluring possibility in this dire position.

But he knew better than giving in. This wasn't just about him. Charles was in danger, beaten down because of him. If he gave up, mister Cullen would probably see no more use in Charles and would almost definitely dispose of him.

If there was just a way to get him and Charles out of here. 

Or at least get Charles out, he didn't care much about himself. 

He opened his eyes and looked around the room. It was quite spacious and lavishly furnished. He had suspected being locked up in something less luxurious, like a basement, not something that resembled a posh looking hotel room. He looked up and saw his hands were bound around one of the decorative columns that surrounded the room. Pulling on the chains seemed like no use, bound tightly around his wrists.

Dim light came out of tall windows, the pitter-patter of the rain on glass. It was probably still early in the morning, less than a day ago since everything had changed for the worst. He looked up at the ceiling, thinking of John, of Albert. Thinking of the awful and ruthless way they had died. He could still hardly fathom it, his mind just didn't want to register they weren't alive anymore. 

He clenched his eyes shut and choked on a sob.

There was the loud click of a lock turning, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the door where mister Cullen had appeared the night before, that god awful swine. 

The door opened and two women stepped inside. One was young and pretty with sandy hair in a simple dress, an omega around her twenties, the other woman seemed around her mid-forties, her scent surprised him, an alpha. She was wearing a dress that didn't look like one a simple a servant should be wearing, her graying curly hair pinned up, the look on her face reminded him a bit of Grimshaw's, seemed like a woman to not mess around with.

There was a deep frown on the alpha woman's face when she looked at him and quickly closed the door behind her.

“Mister Cullen ordered us to wash you and dress you proper.” She snarled, walking up to him as she rummaged through a deep pocket in her long skirt, he could hear the rattling of keys.  
She took a set of keys out and moved towards him. 

“Don't try anything, boy.” She warned him.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced at the women. How easy it would be to knock them down and try for an escape. 

But that would be too easy.

Way too easy.

It felt like a trap.

Or maybe a test.

He was reminded by mister Cullen's words. Whether Charles lived, depended on his actions.

The younger woman looked anxious, glancing back and forth between him and the door they had come from.

And he knew if he succeeded in knocking the two women down, which he knew he could, he would probably be knocked down to the ground himself the moment he would step out of this room. Now that wasn't all that concerning to him, if his life was on the line, he would be willing to risk it. 

But it wasn't his life that was on the line.

The part that concerned him was that Charles’ life was on the line. The other man wouldn't get out of the situation unscathed. He knew the chance of Charles getting killed was small, mister Cullen wouldn't just ruin the leverage he had over Arthur, it would be unwise, it would be stupid. But seriously injuring Charles wasn't out of the question, certainly not if it helped mister Cullen in getting what he wanted.

But not trying for an escape, it made Arthur feel uneasy, made him feel like he was going against his nature, made him feel like he was giving up, like he wasn't doing his best to get Charles out of this situation.

Of course there was a minimal chance of getting himself and Charles out of here and he knew he shouldn't take such a small chance, especially if it meant Charles would have to pay the price for it if he failed, it was too much of a risk. But the feeling kept nagging him, worsened when the woman pushed the key into the shackles around his wrists and turned the lock with a loud click.

He let out a shaky breath when his hands dropped onto his lap and the two women watched him, almost anxiously. As if they were waiting.

It messed him up, his body was free to go on a rampage, find the man who gave the order to burn his brother and friend alive.

Oh how he longed to strangle him with his bare hands. 

But he could do nothing, his mind wasn't free, he knew mister Cullen had complete control over him by using Charles. He couldn't do anything, it was like having invisible restraints all around his body, like a noose around his neck, choking him slowly.

He clenched his hands into fists, saw the younger woman flinch in the corner of his eye.

The atmosphere around the three of them was tense, but the two women didn't say anything, didn't do anything. Just waited. Waited for what he was going to do. It was overly obvious.

He unclenched his hands and let out a deep trembling sigh, surrendering.

The older woman seemed to notice almost instantly. 

“Stand up.” She ordered.

Arthur complied with a grunt, his legs protesting and his injured leg throbbing under his weight.

“Follow me.” She said and he followed after her and out of the room, the young woman closing up the line.

When they stepped into the hallway, he noticed it was empty. But he caught the faint scents of male betas, most probably guards.

He flared his nostrils, hoping to catch the smallest hint of Charles's scent, but there was nothing. If he could just find out where Charles was, maybe just maybe he could figure out a plan to get the both of them out. Though he knew it wouldn't be that easy, he wouldn't be surprised if Charles was kept in another building altogether.

They stepped into a luxurious looking bathroom, the air hitting his face was warm and moist. In the middle of the room was a big bathtub, steam rising up, forming a faint fog around them when they entered.

“Undress and get into the bath, boy.” The woman ordered, giving him a pointed look.

He gave her a long look in return, but eventually relented. He was just grateful mister Cullen wasn't here watching his every move while he undressed.

He turned his back to them and quickly took his clothes off, grabbing the rims of the bath and stepping into the steaming hot water. The water tingled his skin unpleasantly, but he slipped in deeper anyway, letting the water go all the way up to his chin.

“I don't know what Roy sees in you, I've got omegas prettier and younger than you.” She muttered under her breath and grabbed a sponge.

She wasn't gentle when she started washing him, her hands were rough and cold, even in the warm water. Scrubbing his skin with a sponge, he felt her long nails occasionally scraping over the skin on his back, felt like the sponge was scraping his skin off as well.

The younger woman had collected the clothes he had gotten from Albert, scattered over the floor. Albert's scent was in the fabric and he was quite sure he wouldn't be seeing those clothes ever again, just like he wouldn't be seeing Albert ever again. The thought alone made him want to sink his head underwater, allowing the water to take all his sorrows away.  
But he didn't. He just kept his eyes on the young woman, watched her leave the room with the bundle of clothes, probably the last time he'd smell that comforting and gentle scent of Albert.

The scrubbing of his skin continued ruthlessly. 

A few minutes later she appeared again, this time with a bundle of new clothes. From where he was sitting in the tub, he could smell the clothes reeked of mister Cullen.

The rest of his bath was uncomfortable and uneasy, he quickly dried himself off and slipped into the overly soft clothes without complaining. The alpha scent washed over him, felt like he was being chained up wearing them.

They sorted out his hair, shaved the rough stubble on his cheeks, dabbed a clear fluid on his scent glands that seemed to intensify his scent. He felt like a doll, being dressed up for another one's pleasure. It was goddamn degrading.

The women looked him over when they seemed to be done, studied him as if he wasn't there, trying to detect any more faults in him. And he tried to keep his chin high, but he was faltering.

“He looks presentable, looking like a proper omega now.” The older woman hummed in approval, her eyes went up and down his body. “We did a fine job, if I must say so myself.”

The young woman next to her nodded in agreement and kept her eyes low.

Arthur frowned, but kept his mouth shut.

The woman whistled and within seconds, two guards stepped inside.

“You can take him to mister Cullen now, I think he'll be quite pleased with our work.” She looked incredibly satisfied with herself as she watched the guards grab Arthur's arm and take him out of the bathroom.

As he was being led down the hallway, he noticed the many omega scents behind closed doors, behind some doors he smelled alpha scents as well. Was he in some kind of brothel? He thought he heard low moaning behind one of the doors and figured he probably was. Had that female alpha been the madam of this place? She also seemed to know mister Cullen personally.

He had heard about the stories. Omegas being picked off the streets to fill brothels such like these, mostly unwilling omegas. Many alphas came to these places to find pleasure and have a good time, but he had also heard stories of some coming in in search of a mate. If they found an omega they’d like to mate, they would have to pay a mighty sum to the brothel to buy that omega out. Most omegas were too afraid to refuse the mating or just wanted to get out of the brothel badly. 

It reminded him more of a slave market.

After being taken in by Dutch and Hosea, he had always thought he was spared from this life, but now he wasn't all too sure anymore. What did mister Cullen plan on doing with him? Did he want to take revenge on him, let his frustrations out on him, cause of the stolen money and for Arthur beating him up. Did he want to watch Arthur suffer inside a brothel? Did he want to watch him break, getting taken by alpha after alpha, all for his amusement?

But to be honest, Arthur thought there wasn't much left of him to break anymore.

The guards led him down some finely decorated stairs and they entered a spacious kind of living room, filled with lavish furniture. It was still morning, but the place seemed to be crowded with people. He looked to his right, saw an older man trailing wet kisses down a young omega's neck. Long red sofas, on some of them lay sparsely dressed omegas, alphas lingering around them, most definitely the customers. He could feel their prying eyes on him as well as they continued walking, checking him out for a potential screw, their scents overwhelming him. It was getting harder to breath, felt panic and adrenaline wanting to take over. Right now, he couldn't imagine anywhere worse than being in a brothel swarmed with alphas.

But thankfully they kept a respectable distance. The brothel seemed like a luxurious one, a high standard one, probably with its own set of strict rules.

The guards led him through a grand entrance hall, one of them opened the large front doors and motioned for him to go outside. When he did, he halted in his step when he saw mister Cullen standing a couple of feet away from him, a cigarette in one hand, holding an umbrella in the other hand. He took a long drag and stared back at him.

“Good morning, Arthur.” He said calmly.

The rain poured down on Arthur's shoulders, his clothes getting wet. He stared back at mister Cullen, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Mister Cullen walked up to him and held the umbrella above their heads. “Let's take a walk, Applebridge has the loveliest of parks.” He took another drag of his cigarette and flicked it away. “There's one around the corner of this street.”

Arthur didn't particularly know much about rich folks, but he knew that most weren't all too fond of taking a stroll through the park on a rainy day.

“Please do stay under the umbrella.” Mister Cullen said as he started walking, he turned back to Arthur when he didn't follow him. “…if you don't, your dear friend is a dead man.”

Arthur let out a deep growl, goddamn that piece of shit. 

He slowly stepped forwards with a limp, hated his body for showing weakness, started walking alongside the other man. Their shoulders brushed with every step they took and it absolutely repulsed him, he gritted his teeth in frustration and anger. Quickly glancing over his shoulder, he saw the two guards following after them, keeping their distance though.

Mister Cullen kept on tempting him with possible escapes, testing his loyalty towards Charles. By now, he must've discovered Arthur's loyalty ran pretty deep, made the power he had over Arthur all the bigger. 

Arthur still didn't have a clue of Charles's whereabouts, hadn't seen him since last night, hadn't even been able to catch his scent, absolutely no trace of him, nothing. How could he even be sure the other man was still alive? He knew he was only able to start thinking of an escape plan if he knew where Charles was. Going for an escape and just hoping he would stumble upon the other man was way too risky and would most probably end up with Charles getting killed. He would have to bide his time, force himself to listen to the blabbering of this awful man.

They turned around the corner of the street. “I think the ladies might've gone a bit too far dressing you up.” Mister Cullen noted, looking sideways at him, the corner of his lip quirked upwards into an amused smile. “Don't take me wrong, you look lovely. But it's not you.”

“Is that so?” Arthur growled back. “My deepest goddamn apologies… but I reckon you don't know nothin’ about me.”

“I know enough to see you're not comfortable. Especially with how they've enhanced your scent.”

Arthur stayed silent, kept his stare ahead of them, catching sight of the park. Mister Cullen had hit the mark there, didn't mean Arthur would grant him the satisfaction of seeing him frustrated. His scent was always the thing that gave him away. He didn't look like an omega, but he sure as Hell smelled like one. He didn't accept his scent, he didn't accept being an omega, he didn't accept himself.

Mister Cullen seemed pleased by his inner turmoil and kept silent as they continued walking, bumping intentionally into Arthur's shoulder just to watch the look of frustration and anger cross over the other man's features.

“Rain is a rather beautiful thing, isn't it?” Mister Cullen broke him out of his thoughts as they walked into the park, followed the path that went around a large pond that stood in the middle.   
“It's calming, forces you to live in the here and now. It's growth, it's a new start.”

Arthur listened, but wished to be anywhere else but here, he'd even rather be back inside the brothel, surrounded by staring alphas.

“We shouldn't be looking in the past anymore.” Mister Cullen continued calmly, watching Arthur. “I’ll forget about the stolen money and you'll forget about the incident at the cabin.”

“You think..” Arthur growled and paused, trying to compose himself, trying to restrain his anger. “You think I'll just forget about you killing my friends?” He spat.

Mister Cullen sighed. “I admit. I lost my cool back there in the forest.” He said calmly. “By killing your friends, I ruined the chance of us ever getting together in a normal way.”

Arthur gritted his teeth, his hands curling into fists. “…We would've never gotten together anyway.” He growled under his breath as he limped along with the other man, staying as far away as possible under the width of the umbrella, which wasn't much.

Mister Cullen briefly glanced at Arthur, pretending to not have heard him. “But like I said, we live in the here and now.” He glanced at the thick droplets of rain sliding down the umbrella, watched how they fell, being absorbed by the ground. “The rain is the start of something new, Arthur. The two of us together.” He said calmly as he directed his stare towards Arthur.

“..Us? Together?” Arthur let out a short laugh. “You are a sick man, you know that?”

Mister Cullen chuckled. “Yes, you are probably right, Arthur. But does it look like I care?”

Arthur huffed. “Nah, don’t think you do.”

Mister Cullen let out a laugh at his response. 

“What the Hell do you even see in me anyway?” Arthur growled, glanced sideways at the other man.

“To be honest, I'm not quite sure myself.” Mister Cullen replied calmly. “I’m drawn to you. You're unusual and not just because you're a male omega. You have strength… a strength I feel the need to control.”

Arthur frowned at him, but kept his mouth shut.

They walked up the pier looking out over the park's pond, hearing some ducks quaking, the pitter patter of the rain hitting the leaves of an old oak tree standing nearby. They halted at the end, looking out over the water. The park would've been peaceful and calming to Arthur if his situation hadn't been so dire. He turned to look over his shoulder, saw the two guards standing where the pier met the land.

“We're moving back to my home in Saint Denis at the end of the day, take the night train.” Mister Cullen suddenly said, keeping his eyes on the water. “You continue doing what I tell you to do if you want your friend to stay alive.” All the amusement was gone in his voice. “There is a lot of planning to do when we get back at Saint Denis, I expect you to be compliant and obedient.”

“Planning for what?” Arthur growled.

“Isn't that obvious, Arthur? The ceremonial mating.” Mister Cullen said calmly and glanced sideways at him and went back to looking out over the water.

Arthur looked at him, opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again.

“..We're going to be bonded, you and me.” Mister Cullen's mouth curled into a smirk.

………………………………………

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I really plan on finishing this story, but sometimes it takes me a while to upload a new chapter.  
Hope you guys stay safe in these bizarre times!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for racist comments, I’m sorry Charles.

Charles saw nothing but darkness when he slowly came to, his head pounding ruthlessly. Blinking, he felt something brush against his eyelashes, felt like there was something tied around his head. Blindfolded he was.

Last thing he remembered was seeing Arthur being held, with that alpha standing in front of him. He saw Arthur getting hit in the back of his head before getting knocked out cold himself. Last thing he had heard was that man giving out an order of burning the cabin and he could only hope John had gotten himself and mister Mason out of the building. He could dwell on it and he could worry about it, but right now it wouldn't help on his and Arthur's own chance of survival.

They had taken him to some kind of brothel, dumped in the basement by the smell of it. The musty aroma of mildew was strong and the air around him was cold and moist. But he couldn't smell other people nearby, didn't hear them either.

He knew they had beaten him just to put on a show, they had beaten him just before they took him upstairs to Arthur. Just to show him and Arthur who's in control. He knew the only reason he was here and still alive, was to keep Arthur under that alpha's control. Right now, he was the collar and chains around Arthur's neck and no way would he allow himself to be such a burden towards another.

He briefly wondered what the Hell was wrong with that Alpha, mister Cullen, to put up so much effort to get to Arthur. He didn't even seem interested in the stolen money, he only seemed interested in Arthur. It reminded him a bit of Dutch, how the other man sometimes seemed to have an obsession with Arthur as well. 

Arthur indeed was something special, someone unusual. He had been surprised himself when he was first welcomed into the gang, shaking hands with Dutch's enforcer, who looked like an alpha, but smelled like an omega. He hadn't seen much male omegas in his life either, but the few he had seen, well.. they were nothing like Arthur. He could only imagine what an alpha would think, meeting Arthur, to be able to control all that power.

Even after that awful incident a month ago, Arthur was still strong, still a force to be reckoned with. For men who crave power such like Dutch and that mister Cullen, the idea of being in control of such must be exhilarating.

Whatever it might be, it was important to get out of this place. He wasn't particularly curious to find out what that mister Cullen had in store for the both of them. Wouldn't be any good, that was for sure.

He knew there was a small dagger he had hidden inside his boot, but unfortunately out of reach with his hands tied behind his back.

He gave an experimental tug on the rope tying his wrists together, the rough texture digging into his skin. The rope held together, but it wasn't as tightly tied up as it could be. As long as it weren't chains around his wrists, he knew he could get out of them eventually. Wouldn't be easy, but rope would eventually give in if he tugged long enough. He started pulling on the rope again, rubbing his wrists over the damp wall behind him, slicking his skin. Eventually he felt some more movement in the rope, wasn't much, but it was something and it gave him a small glimmer of hope.

He continued tugging and pulling, rubbing the rope along the wall behind him. His skin was getting slicker and he wasn't sure if it was from the dampness of the wall behind him or from his own blood. But it was working and after an hour of tugging he was able to turn one of his wrist in the bindings. 

He took a short breather, his shoulders aching and his wrists throbbing painfully.

He looked up when he heard something, he thought he heard footsteps from outside the cell he was being kept at. He focused on the sound as it got closer and closer. There was a short pause and he heard the rattling of keys, followed by the loud click of the turning of a lock. 

This was a chance, an opportunity to easily get out of this cell. If he would be able to subdue this person, he would have a set of keys and probably a weapon as well to help get himself and Arthur out. He renewed his struggle with the bindings around his wrists, fervently tugging, wouldn't take much more to get one of his hands out. He quickly halted when he heard the person enter the room, the sound of footsteps echoing through.

He heard snickering and seconds later the blindfold was ripped away from his face. He was met by the blinding light of a lantern casting long shadows around the small cell. He frowned and blinked slowly, not quite used to the light, looking up and saw a guard with a smug look plastered over his ugly features.

“You hungry, mutt?” The man threw a chunk of bread at his feet and onto the damp floor. “The boss ordered me to feed you. But I reckon you rather eat off the ground, like the dirty dog that you are.” He grinned.

Charles just stared back at him, kept his mouth shut. The man continued with his racist slurs, Charles had heard them all before, didn't mean he would ever get used to them. He unnoticeably continued tugging on his bindings, feeling the rope getting looser and looser. Probably didn't need much more than a hard pull.

“Can’t talk? Probably too stupid to talk, huh?” The guard chuckled as he held the lantern up to study Charles's face. “What are you anyway, a mulatto?”

Charles clenched his fists behind his back, tensing all the muscles in his shoulders and arms.

“Maybe they shoulda lynch you, hmm? We don't need more of you blacks here.” His grin was nauseating as he leaned forward and roughly grabbed Charles's chin, studying him. “…Though you are a rather pretty specimen, I must say.” 

Right at that moment, Charles launched forward, the rope snapping around his wrists, he slammed his head into the guard's face, a sickening wet sound of blood and broken bones echoed through the small cell. The guard didn't have much time to collect himself as Charles dove on top of him, his strong hands curling around the man's throat, his fingernails digging deep into his skin, cutting off his oxygen. The man clawed at his shoulders and face, leaving scratches, but unable to get him off.

Gurgling sounds and pathetic desperate gasps for air, the last things that would ever slip from the bastard's vile mouth.

Charles slowly stood up when he was sure the man had let out his last breath, his head was still pounding painfully and his legs were aching from sitting for so long in an uncomfortable position. Leaning down, he rummaged through the man's pockets, took the keys and some pocket change, there was nothing else, which was unusual, not even a knife. 

He cut the rope around his ankles with the dagger from his shoe and rubbed his sore and bleeding wrists. He put the dagger back into his right boot and thought of what to do next. Was it a wise move to get to Arthur?

He knew mister Cullen wouldn't kill him, so Arthur was somewhat safe, maybe not mentally, but physically he was. And without he himself being here, mister Cullen had no more leverage over Arthur.

Though leaving Arthur, it felt wrong. After everything that had happened to him, he shouldn't be left behind anymore. 

But right now it felt like the right option. He wasn't just going to leave Arthur, he would get back and get him out. But right now it felt wiser to get himself out first, than running wild through an unfamiliar building in the hope he would find Arthur and no one would find him instead. 

He also had the nagging feeling that his escape so far had gone a bit too smoothly, a bit too easy, as if he was meant to escape and search for Arthur. It was slightly peculiar the guard hadn't been carrying a gun, not even a knife to defend himself with. Maybe mister Cullen was playing some sick game with him, testing him, waiting for him to get to Arthur and then strike at them, crushing their hopes.

It all seemed a bit farfetched, but he couldn't help how his instincts kept nagging him, the bad feeling in his gut was telling him to get the Hell out, even if it meant leaving Arthur behind. 

Something was just.. off.

He made up his mind, took the lantern, memorized the small cell and blew the light out. Making his way through the dark, he silently headed to the door, it was still unlocked. When he sneaked out of the cell, the darkness still surrounding him, he held a tentative hand on the damp wall and followed it to some narrow stairs leading up. There were no other guards here either, no one.

At the top of the stairs, there was a very faint beacon of light and he slowly headed up to it, careful to not make the wood creak under his feet.

He normally didn't feel this hesitant, he almost always had a clear idea of what he was going to do, but now he felt somewhat lost as he walked up those steps, knowing he was planning to leave this place without Arthur.

When he stepped into a dark and empty corridor, it felt like his suspicions were confirmed, there was absolutely no one. Just one clear way to the end of the corridor, to a small door that seemed to lead to the outside world. On the other side, there were stairs that would most probably lead him to somewhere Arthur might be.

He hesitated again but eventually silently walked to the door leading away from the stairs. Leading away from Arthur.

When he came to the door, he grabbed for the keys, rummaged through them until one seemed to fit. The lock turned with a loud click.

“Interesting.”

A clear voice spoke up behind him just when he was about to grab the doorknob. He tensed.

He was so close.

“You're going to leave without Arthur, I didn't quite expect that to be honest.”

Charles straightened his back and slowly turned to look mister Cullen in the eyes. The other man stood at the end of the corridor, calmly walking towards him, casually smoking a cigarette. Next to him stood six guards, guns pointing in his direction.

“You were monitoring me.” Charles said slowly.

“Yes, I was.” Mister Cullen responded calmly and halted, taking a drag, let it fill his lungs before exhaling.

“I suspected as much.”

“Ah, that's why you probably opted to leave without Arthur. A better chance of escaping even knowing this might be a trap.” Mister Cullen said.

Charles stayed silent.

“You're smarter than I gave you credit for.”

They both stayed silent for a couple of long seconds, just watching each other, sizing each other up.

“You killed one of my men.” Mister Cullen said eventually as he flicked the ash off his cigarette. “Though I can't blame you. He was quite awful, wasn't he?”

“What do you want?” Charles growled.

“Well, I want you to stay of course.” When mister Cullen said that, the door behind Charles was pushed open and two guards grabbed his arms. Charles struggled in their grip on him while another one bound his wrists together, this time the rope was tied a whole lot tighter.

“Of course this attempted escape of yours won't be without its consequences.” Mister Cullen turned on his heel and walked away.

Charles was preparing himself for a beating, but instead he was being pulled along by the guards. They moved after mister Cullen and went up a flight of stairs, went to the top level, Charles had counted six levels. Didn't take long before he was able to catch Arthur's scent as they walked along the hallway, it smelled stronger than it usually did.

Mister Cullen didn't say a word as he halted in front of the door where Arthur's scent was the strongest, he turned to him and snatched the keys Charles was still clenching in his hands. Mister Cullen shot him a long look, his lips slightly quirking upwards into a smug grin as he put one of those keys in the lock and turned it.

The door opened. 

And Charles was pushed inside. Arthur sat at the farthest corner, his wrists were shackled in front of him with a chain around his neck as if he was some kind of dog. He looked surprised when he saw him.

“Charles!” He was able to say before two of the guards grabbed his arms and roughly pulled him up on his feet and held his arms up in the air.

Mister Cullen stepped up to Charles, looked him dead calm in the eyes. “You think you’re the only one who feels the consequences of someone else's actions, but I have no qualms punishing Arthur for your disobedience as well.” He smirked. “You see, this works both ways.”

Dread settled into Charles's stomach as he watched another guard grab his gun, walking over to Arthur and started whacking him with the butt of his gun. The other two guards kept Arthur upwards while the other ruthlessly whipped the weapon into Arthur's side, stomach and ribs.

Arthur hissed and grunted in pain and when they finally let go off him after what felt like ages, he doubled over from the pain, landing on his knees, spitting out blood onto the floor.

It was hard not to, but Charles didn't struggle, stayed dead calm. When he noticed the guards holding him seemed slightly distracted, wasn't for more than half a second, he was ruthless and immediately kicked one of them in the shin and hit the other with the back of his head. In the moment of surprise they let go of him and he leaped forward towards Arthur, knowing fully well he wouldn't be able to do much with his hands tied to his back.

“Arthur! There’s a knife hidden in my right boot!” He yelled instead.

Arthur looked surprised as well from where he still sat on his knees, still doubled over in pain, but the look was quickly replaced with a frown and deep concentration as he pushed himself forwards. Within the blink of an eye, he had snatched the small blade from Charles boot, turned and pushed the knife deep into one of the guard's ankles. He wasted no time, grabbing the gun from the man's holster as he cried out in pain and doubled over to clench his ankle. Arthur was absolutely ruthless. Shot the guard straight through the head.

The two other guards around him looked flabbergasted, momentarily too shocked to move. When they did decide to move, it was already too late. Two gunshots later they fell dead on the ground. Gaping holes inside their skulls, blood leaking onto floor.

Arthur slowly stood up, seemed confident with the comfortable weight of a gun in his hands. He pointed the gun at the chain between his wrists and shot, giving his arms more space to maneuver around. He raised the gun again and aimed it at mister Cullen and the remaining of his guards. The guards did the same, holding their guns up with slightly shaking hands, pointing them at Arthur.

“Charles.. com' here.” Arthur grunted, motioning with his gun. He crouched and ripped the blade from the dead guard's ankle, his eyes never leaving mister Cullen's. With a quick slash, Arthur had cut the rope around Charles's wrists.

Charles nodded his thanks and quickly grabbed the two guns off the dead guards around them and aimed them at the other men as well, mirroring Arthur. It was seven against two now, but Charles was quite positive they had the upper hand in this standoff.

The room fell dead silent and Charles thought he could hear his own heart beating wildly inside his chest.

“We could stand here all day.” Mister Cullen broke the tense silence, flicked his cigarette to the floor and crushing it underneath his heel. “Or we could all end up dead.” He said simply. He looked a bit too casual, didn't seem all that affected by the tense situation they were all in. Just kept his eyes on Arthur, he almost looked to be in awe.

Arthur huffed. “..You sure? I reckon you'll be the ones who end up dying if it comes down to it.” He growled in response and spat some blood out of his mouth. 

“Probably.” Mister Cullen responded. “But I'll make sure to take your friend with me.” He said as he grabbed the pistol from his holster and aimed the gun at Charles's head.

A low growl emitted from Arthur's throat. “You’ll be dead before you can pull that trigger.” He snarled. “Just put down your guns if you want to save your own lives.”

“Hmm.. tempting, Arthur.” Mister Cullen chuckled and cocked his gun. “But no.”

The guards shot nervous glances towards mister Cullen. They had seen how deadly the two men in front of them could be. In less than the blink of an eye, they had killed three or their men.

Mister Cullen chuckled, looking a bit too amused. “We stood like this before, Arthur. Just give up, this time there are no horses to jump on or a wild river to jump into.” Mister Cullen took a small step forwards.

“Maybe not..” Arthur growled and quickly glanced sideways at Charles, they briefly locked eyes, a small understanding going through the two of them as they side stepped so their backs were now facing the long windows behind them. “…But there are always other ways to escape.”

Charles caught Arthur's drift when he glanced through the windows, saw another rooftop next to this building, but it seemed to be at least two levels lower. It would be a definite leap of faith, but staying in this room, would be as well.

Mister Cullen seemed to catch on as well. “Don't.” He said, suddenly losing his cool.

Charles and Arthur shot each other one more quick glance before launching themselves backwards through the windows. 

Glass sliced through his skin and the fall was longer than Charles had expected. All the breath got knocked out of his lungs when he made impact with the rooftop, heard the roof tiles Shatter underneath his weight.

He groaned in pain and slowly clawed through the glass and tile shards underneath him, his already bruised body aching even more after the fall. Flexing his arms and legs, he felt relief wash over him when he noted he was still able to move them. No broken bones it seemed.   
Looking up at the window they had jumped out of, he saw the faces of two guards appearing, about to aim their weapons at them.

Charles grabbed the guns that had fallen from his hands and quickly shot upwards at the window. The two guards ducked for cover, giving him and Arthur some time to get up. He glanced at Arthur lying a couple of feet away from him, saw him rolling onto his back with a pained groan. 

“Arthur.” Charles spoke up, didn't bother to hide the alarming tone in his voice.

Arthur glanced at him and they quickly scrambled up to their feet, he seeming to have a bit more difficulty. His injured leg looked to be protesting underneath him and Charles quickly rushed over to help him stand up, dragging Arthur along with him. Bodies protesting and aching from the long fall, they moved forward over the rooftop that was still slippery from the morning’s rain.

Charles led the way as they ran, almost stumbled, jumping from roof to another roof, tiles crunching underneath their feet. He noted how Arthur seemed to have trouble keeping up with him and looked over his shoulder. Saw by the look on Arthur's face that he was in quite a lot of pain. He was gritting his teeth as he ran, the limp in his step having worsened significantly. His injured leg was giving him Hell most probably.

He quickened his pace when he thought he heard the guards behind them, taking chase, somehow had gotten on the rooftop as well. Charles had to give the men some credit for their persistence.

He and Arthur continued running, bullets whizzing past them and they quickly jumped down onto a small terrace that kept them momentarily out of sight of the guards.

Charles noted how the guards had been aiming at him, not at Arthur. And Arthur seemed to notice as well when he ordered Charles to continue to run ahead of him, covering his back.

At the furthest corner of the terrace, they had to climb back up the roof. He made a step up the wall with one leg and jumped vertically, reaching towards the top with his left hand and soon he was pulling himself up onto the roof again. He groaned at the effort it took his bruised and aching body, but there was no time for resting. He reached down and grabbed Arthur's hand when he made a jump to climb up as well, having quite a lot of difficulty as his leg kept on collapsing underneath him.

Arthur was cursing as he scrambled up, but succeeded eventually. He let out a huge breath, looking exhausted already.

The guards didn't give up their chase either, catching sight of them again when they were back on the rooftop.

“We have to get off these roofs..” Arthur grunted as they crawled onto their tired feet and continued running over the edge of a particularly steep roof. They had to be careful where they placed their feet, one misstep and they would be tumbling down to the streets below.

Charles kept silent, knew Arthur was right. If they got down, they could hide in some alleyway, sneak through narrow streets and hidden gardens, it would be a lot easier to lose their trail in a crowd of people. But so far he hadn't seen many ways to get down.

He heard the guards yelling behind them, followed by a bullet whizzing past them, too close for comfort. They were aiming at their feet now, and this time it seemed like they were also aiming at Arthur.

They were getting desperate.

He and Arthur picked up the speed, pushed their bodies to the limit as they ran and jumped and slid across the roofs, out of breath and sweating profusely. There was a large gap between two buildings coming up and Charles slowed down just a little. He wasn't all too certain they would be able to make the jump, but making it would improve the chance of losing the men following them. At the other side of the large gap, he could make out a terrace with fire escape stairs leading down to the streets below.

Charles glanced back at Arthur and the other nodded briefly before picking up the pace again. With no more doubt in their minds, they sped down the roof, readying themselves for the jump.  
There was another loud shot and all of a sudden blinding pain erupted from Charles's upper leg. He crashed forwards into the roof, roof tiles went flying and so did he as he saw himself sliding downwards towards the edge.

“Charles!” He heard Arthur yell behind him. “Shit!”

Charles was about to fall of the roof, grappling desperately at tiles that were also falling along with him. Just before he went down over the edge, he felt strong hands hook themselves around his upper arm, preventing him from falling to his death. His lower body dangled over the edge dangerously so, and he let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He clawed at Arthur's shoulders and eventually was able to crawl back onto the roof with Arthur helping him out.

He let out a deep shaky breath, gritted his teeth in pain when he moved his leg, pain flaring through his entire body now that the adrenaline had mostly washed away and left him feeling like his muscles were made of jelly.

“Arthur.. you gotta go.” Charles groaned, clenching his upper leg. Blood was staining his pants, already covering most of his leg. “At least.. one of us has got to get out of here..”

“Not happenin'..” Arthur stubbornly shook his head, put the gun in the waist of his pants and ripped the sleeve off his fancy looking shirt, started tying it tightly around Charles's leg.

“The bullet must've hit an artery, I’m already losing too much blood.” Charles tried to stay calm when he said that. “I can't make the jump when my body's like this..”

Arthur stood up and paced around, rubbing his face. “No no no… Shit!” He growled in frustration, grabbing the gun from his waist, clenching it in his hand. “I am NOT leaving without you.” Arthur went and stood before him, aiming his gun at the approaching guards.

The guards halted a couple of feet away, also aiming their weapons at them.

“Put down your gun!” One of them yelled.

Arthur growled and cocked his gun in response.

“We can give your friend some medical treatment.” One of the guards said. “Just come with us peacefully. If you don't, I don't think he's going to make it.”

Arthur briefly glanced down at Charles and back towards the guards again. Oh how he so badly wanted to shoot them all dead right now. Shoot the bullets deep into their skulls, splatter their brains all over the rooftop. But there were six of them and he knew he only had two bullets left. There also was the fact, Charles was losing too much blood. Even if he was able to kill the guards, he didn't have a clue of how to save Charles's life in this crowded town, how would he, an omega, even explain the remaining shackles around his wrists and throat? Also didn't even know how to get Charles off the roof in one piece.

“Look at him, he's bleeding out.” The guard continued, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Because of you, he goddamn is.” Arthur snarled back.

“He’s dying.. and you know it.” The guard's voice sounded almost taunting. 

Arthur glanced down at Charles again, saw the way Charles desperately tried to cling on to consciousness, looking weak and disoriented. 

He was losing Charles, and Arthur knew he didn't have much of a choice anymore. The only thing that was preventing him from giving in to their proposition, was his seething anger.

Gritting his teeth, feeling so goddamn frustrated, enraged and furious, Arthur threw his gun down at his feet, reluctantly raising his hands up above his head in surrender.

The guards grinned and acted almost immediately, sped towards him and roughly pushed him down onto his knees. One of them grabbed the chain around his neck, kept his head down as they quickly tied a rope around his wrists behind his back. Arthur watched almost in agony when he saw the men snatch the guns away from him and Charles. Felt like this had been their one and only chance of escaping. 

And he had just ruined it.

“Wise move, pretty boy..” One of the guards chuckled. They pulled him onto his feet and started dragging him along, the three other guards grabbed Charles, following after them. They moved over the roofs, eventually arriving back at where the chase had started. They moved up the fire escape stairs and dragged Arthur and Charles back inside the brothel where mister Cullen was waiting for them.

Mister Cullen looked smug and pleased, awfully pleased when he saw the way Arthur and Charles were returned back to him, fully in his control. A smug smirk plastered on his face when his eyes met Arthur's. 

His eyes scanned Charles, looking more dead than alive. “Take him back to his cell and get him a doctor.” He ordered “Wouldn't want him to bleed to death, now do we?” He stared back at Arthur again.

“Goddamn you..” Arthur growled, the guards tying him back up to the wall, pushing him onto his knees.

“You must understand by now, Arthur.. Though I feel like I'm repeating myself.” Mister Cullen said calmly. “His life..” He pointed a finger towards Charles. “-is in your hands.”

Arthur frowned and watched how the guards dragged Charles out of the room, leaving a trail of blood after them. Just hoping it wouldn't be the last time he saw his friend alive.

Mister Cullen continued. “He wouldn't even be in this situation if you had just listened to me from the very beginning.” He said and crouched in front of Arthur, his arms resting on his knees. “No one would've died if you had just taken my offer back on the train. You can't blame anyone but yourself.” There was a nauseating smile on his face when he said that. “You've been selfish, and you know it.”

“I…” Arthur didn't know what to say and looked sideways. Felt like there was a truth hidden in Cullen's words.

“You know, I can set out a team and hunt down that gang of yours. Slit mister O'Malley’s throat, if that even is his real name.” Mister Cullen said calmly, forced Arthur's chin up to look at him. “We can go on till there is no one left for you to care for.” 

Arthur growled at him, shook his head to get the hand off of him.

“But it can all stop, if you just give yourself.. to me.” Mister Cullen tightly held the hold on Arthur's chin, calmly brushing a stray lock of hair out of the other's face. “I've been patient, but my patience is wearing thin. I want an answer. Either you accept my offer or either I let your friend die and hunt down that gang of yours. I'm done waiting.”

Arthur said nothing, felt the bile rise in his throat when he looked into mister Cullen's eyes. He felt the hand on his chin, felt the other hand move down, gripping his upper leg. He wanted to panic, he wanted to scream, he wanted those vivid flashbacks to stop. He just wanted all of this to end. 

But there was nothing he could do.

Except giving in.

So that is what he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still not getting better for our boys and I feel like such an awful person.


	24. Chapter 24

Dutch was smoking his cigar, looking out over the view that was Horseshoe Overlook, watching the clouds drift by lazily, illuminated by the sun's golden light. The scenery was tranquil and relaxing, nothing like the storm that was brewing inside his head. Two days had passed since John's return and so far he and Hosea hadn't come up with a plan just yet. It was infuriating.

After John had arrived, the man had slept for nearly an entire day, exhausted as he was. Dutch had forbidden him to help them out searching for Arthur and Charles until the other got less shaky on his legs, got that dry cough under control as well.

The injured alpha John had taken along with him, hadn't awoken either ever since he arrived here. He seemed somewhat stabile, miss Grimshaw had told him. But he had lost quite a lot of blood. Dutch couldn't be bothered much by the injured alpha, he didn't seem like a risk to his position nor a worthy opponent, though it slightly unsettled him Arthur had stayed with him for over a week. Surely Arthur wouldn't be impressed either by such a pathetic excuse of an alpha.

He didn't want to give more thought to the other alpha, he wasn't worth his time. He should be focusing on how he would get Arthur and Charles back.

He had sent Javier and Bill to Applebridge to keep an eye out there, but he hadn't gotten any news from them so far.  
Micah and Lenny should be in Saint Denis by now, he had sent them there since there might be a chance mister Cullen would take the train back. But from them as well, he hadn't heard anything yet.

To be honest he wasn't entirely sure of what to do. Normally he’d sent Arthur if anyone needed saving and he somehow always got the job done.

He was unsure of what to do, he was unsure of himself. 

And he hated that with every fiber of his heart.

He knew the first thing they should find out, was where Arthur and Charles were being kept, and of that he was also still unsure. If he didn't know where they were, he couldn't form up a plan. He took a puff of his cigar, let the smoke fill his lungs before slowly exhaling the smoke up into the air. He closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his cheeks, feeling frustrated.

He just wanted to see Arthur again. Arthur made him feel secure, Arthur made him feel confident.

“What are you doing there, old friend?” A voice broke him out of his thoughts.

Dutch glanced over his shoulder and briefly looked at Hosea before returning his stare back to the scenery in front of him.

“..Thinking..” Dutch murmured and took another puff of his cigar.

“You getting anywhere with all that thinking?” Hosea said as he sat down next to him on the tree log. 

“..not yet.” Dutch admitted, his annoyance was clear in his voice. And he wished he had magically formed up a plan already. He really did.  
Hosea hummed in response and they kept silent for a short while, just staring at the scenery in front of them.

“I..” Dutch broke the silence and frowned. It wasn't like him to be at a loss for words. “I feel like I'm putting everyone down, Hosea.” He sighed, hated how he felt weak and worthless, emotions he had been trying to hide ever since he had left Arthur on that train. “Arthur.. he..”

Hosea clapped a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We'll get him back, Dutch. I know we will.”

Dutch eyed the other man but didn't respond.

“Dutch!” 

They heard a voice call out and glanced over their shoulders as they saw mister Pearson coming over to them, a piece of paper clutched in his hands.

“Pearson.” Dutch eyed him expectantly.

Pearson nodded, seeming a bit out of breath.

“I just went to Valentine, you know, had to get some supplies. The feller at the shop was telling me how it was a good time to stock up with the upcoming winter and all, said it might be a harsh-"

“Get to the point, Pearson.”

Pearson nodded quickly and handed Dutch the piece of paper. “After getting the supplies, I checked for any mail and this just got in.”

Dutch unfolded the paper and read it through. It was a small piece of text, written in what he recognized as Javier's clean handwriting. 

‘Dear uncle Tacitus,

We’ve heard talk of our dear cousins getting the train back to Saint Denis soon. We’ve sent a letter to aunt, hoping she'll be awaiting them when they arrive.  
Yours sincerely,

B and J’

Dutch read the text over once more before handing it over to Hosea. 

Just as he expected, mister Cullen had decided on moving back to Saint Denis, taking Charles and Arthur along with him. And he could only hope Micah and Lenny would be there awaiting them, following them to wherever they would go. There wasn't much info, but it was better this way, no need to extract any unwanted attention.

But what mattered most, very soon they would know Arthur's and Charles's whereabouts.  
And he and Hosea would be able to figure out a plan.

Dutch knew they would have to move from their peaceful spot at Horseshoe overlook and felt a small tinge of regret going through his system, knowing how most of the gang, mostly the women and Jack seemed to have taken a liking to the place. And he admitted he had started liking the place with its beautiful view as well.

But it didn't matter. They would set up camp close to Saint Denis. 

From there he would get Arthur and Charles back to the gang. 

From there he would find out whatever there was to find out about mister Cullen.

From there he would destroy mister Cullen.

……………………………………..

In his honest opinion, they were wasting time. Sure, he would play his role, please Dutch and go to Saint Denis alongside that kid everyone seemed to be praising the last couple of weeks. Didn't mean he would like it. Didn't mean he would pretend he would like it.

Micah glanced around the dusty old bar he was sitting at, couldn't see much in the dim lighting. The only thing that provided some light were the candles littered across the small bar and the streetlight filtering through the flimsy curtains. The bar was filled with shady figures, had an overall bad atmosphere. 

Just the way he liked it.

He groaned and took a swig of his beer. All this nonsense for one bitch, a goddamn omega. And okay, one beta as well, but the mutt could hardly count as human. 

He had to agree, Morgan was fuckable, had a nice scent on him, but that was it. Just wasn't worth the trouble, plenty of other bitches to choose from, Micah thought bitterly as he brought his beer to his lips again. 

He couldn't quite fathom Dutch's fascination. No. His obsession over Morgan. Didn't understand why Dutch granted Arthur a free will, why he allowed Arthur to even deny him. It was absurd. As a goddamn gang leader, a goddamn lead alpha, Dutch had every right to take whatever he wanted.

If he were in Dutch's shoes, he would've showed Morgan who's boss ages ago.

But instead, Dutch gave the cowpoke a big role in his gang. Even allowed a goddamn omega to command other alphas around, follow his lead whenever they were on a job. 

It was sickening.

And Micah couldn't help but think it might be better, if Morgan never got back to the gang again..

“..Are you done yet?” Lenny interrupted his thoughts.

Micah turned to look at him over his shoulder, his lips curling into a sneer. “Does it look like I'm done, kid?”

“We gotta go to the station, Arthur and Charles could arrive within an hour or something.”

“Plenty of time if you ask me.” Micah snorted.

Lenny shifted on his feet, looking slightly uncomfortable. It was pretty obvious he wanted to leave the place. 

“Calm down, boy. Just sit down and buy me a beer. We'll leave soon after.”

Lenny frowned, but complied as he rummaged through his pocket and threw a dollar on the bar, seemed that he was willing to do almost anything to get them going at this point.  
Micah’s lips curled up into a grin and he waved the dollar at the bartender, soon after he was handed a new beer. He took a large gulp, a trickle of the liquid trailing down his chin.

“Dutch'll kill us if we miss that train..”

Micah glanced sideways at him, shooting him an annoyed stare. “..You know what, kid? Why don't you just go already. I'll follow you as soon as I finish this beer.” 

No, he wouldn't.

Lenny seemed grateful at Micah's proposition. At his permission. One of the few betas who would still follow an alpha's order in the Van der Linde gang. Most were obnoxious as Hell. He liked Dutch, he was charismatic and strong, but the freedom he allowed his subordinates to have, it wasn't right.

No, not at all.

He knew they could thrive if he ever took over the gang. He as a lead alpha, now that was a sight to behold.

“Alright..” Lenny said almost hesitantly as Micah watched him nod his head before turning away from the bar. “I'll see you in a bit then.”

“Of course.” Micah waved and turned back to his beer.

He was planning on sitting here the rest of the night, drink some more beer and find a pretty omega to fuck. The kid could go and do whatever he wanted, he didn't give a goddamn. Without him, Lenny wouldn't be able to be successful in anything. And Micah certainly wasn't planning on taking part helping out Morgan.

He'd rather spend time thinking of a plan to make sure Arthur would never get back to the gang ever again.

…………………………………….

It was dark when the train arrived at Saint Denis late at night. The moon looked down upon him as he was led outside the train by a couple of guards. Looking up at the sky, Arthur was reminded how much he hated big cities like these, it was hard to get a clear view of the stars, they were barely visible, dimmed by all the light that pooled through the city streets. He could hardly point out where was north and where was south and he couldn't help but feel uneasy about it. To him, a city like this was like one big claustrophobic jail.

The guards urged him to continue walking and he grimaced at the limp in his step which had only gotten worse after his and Charles's failed attempt of an escape. The burning ache made him feel like he was dragging his leg through barbed wire and he was wondering if it would ever get back to normal again.

But he knew he shouldn't be complaining. He glanced behind him, hoping to catch sight of Charles somewhere, but he was still nowhere to be seen. He so badly needed to know the other was still alive and doing okay, but ever since their failed escape, he had neither seen nor heard about the other man. Mister Cullen had kept him in the dark about it, not that he had seen the other man much as well. The last time he had seen Cullen, was when they stepped into the train at Applebridge. Arthur had been moved to another side of the train than mister Cullen, kept isolated in a small room. And Arthur wasn't all too sure what to think about it.

What was that alpha playing at? Everything about him was confusing and unsettling. Arthur thought back to the first time he had been one on one with the other man. How mister Cullen had promised him a good life, how he had offered him agency, them being equals. And now he was giving Arthur the complete opposite.

Somehow mister Cullen had seemed sincere back then. But most probably Arthur had been stupid, he had been naïve, his judgement clouded by his unstable state of mind.

He also knew most alphas didn't deal well with rejection, especially not when that rejection was combined with that very same omega beating him up, more than once to be more precise. If he had just said yes back in that train, none of this would've happened. Charles would be okay, Albert would be alive, John would be alive, Jack would still have a dad who would look out for him and Abigail would still have a husband, a mate to love. None of them would've suffered if he had just given in to Cullen's proposition. 

But he had been selfish, he had been scared, he had been panicking.

And now.. here he was, right in the middle of this alpha's den anyway, which he tried so hard to prevent from happening. With no way out and nowhere to go, no other option but to follow. Charles's life was on the line and Arthur was done playing around with it. Not ever did he want anyone to get hurt again because of him and his selfish actions.

Maybe it would be better to just give in, give mister Cullen what he wanted. No more fighting, he was so tired, exhausted, so tired to always keep himself strong.   
But being strong, being the pillar of strength, it's what Dutch always expected of him, it's what Dutch taught him.

But Dutch wasn't here. 

And he couldn't help but feel Dutch had abandoned him long ago, before all this got started. He grimaced at the treacherous thoughts. He was being ungrateful towards the man who had saved his life, who had offered him a life no omega could imagine having.

He hadn't noticed he had stopped walking until one of the guards roughly pushed him forwards, pushing him towards a horse and carriage waiting under a flickering street light.

One of the guards opened the door of the carriage and without words, he was none too gently pushed inside, the door slammed closed behind him. Maybe these guards knew the men Arthur had killed when he tried to make his escape, and he realized all too well he couldn't blame them for being bitter and angry with him.

He scrambled up to his feet as much as his tied up hands allowed him to and sat himself down on the soft red cushions. Cullen probably knew he wouldn't be much of a threat anymore, but Arthur reckoned he kept his hands tied together just as a reminder to show him who was in control.

Arthur looked outside the small window, still hoping to catch sight of Charles, but instead he thought he caught a glimpse of another familiar looking face. In the blink of an eye, the person was out of his sight again, left him wondering if he had seen right or if his mind was playing tricks on him.

Had that person been Lenny?

Before he could give it more thought, he was interrupted by the carriage door being opened and in stepped mister Cullen who calmly seated himself in front of Arthur, and the air felt stifling almost instantly. Arthur felt like he could suffocate in this small narrow space, overwhelmed by mister Cullen's strong alpha scent washing over him.

Mister Cullen knocked on the ceiling of the carriage and a few seconds later they went moving along the silent streets of Saint Denis. There weren't many people out at this time of the night, the normal lively sounds of an active city were replaced by the sound of horse hooves on cobblestone echoing through empty streets. 

Mister Cullen kept silent, rummaged through his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Arthur.

Arthur hesitated, but accepted it anyway, uncomfortably grabbing the cigarette with his tied up hands and bringing it up to his lips. 

Hell, he needed a smoke.

The other man took his matches out, leaned forward to offer Arthur a light, which he accepted with a grumble. Then lit another cigarette for himself.

Arthur took a long drag, let it fill his lungs, making his body relax a bit more before exhaling. He leaned back in the cushion, letting the cigarette dangle between his lips. Mister Cullen was watching him with those calm and calculating eyes of his, taking a drag of his own cigarette.

Arthur sighed and looked up at the carriage ceiling. Was he really ready to give up? Give in to this man? This man who hadn't hesitated to murder his friends, his family. This man who made his skin crawl and made him panic whenever his scent reached his nose.

Giving in, felt like betrayal towards the people he lost. But if he didn't, he wasn't sure of Charles's fate.

He looked back at Cullen again, their eyes meeting, and Arthur couldn't help but grimace.

“What's on your mind, Arthur?” Mister Cullen broke the silence between them.

Arthur grunted in response and took the cigarette from his lips, studying it as he let it balance between his fingers. “I don't get you.” He said and looked back up again at the other man. Tried his best to keep his rising panic under control. Being this close to an alpha in such a small claustrophobic space, it was overwhelming him in the worst kinds of ways. The way Cullen looked at him, reminded him of those alphas, it reminded him of a wolf licking its chops when seeing a prey.

Mister Cullen seemed humored and Arthur felt like stubbing his cigarette out in the other's eyes. He wanted to rip that smug look off that goddamn oily turd’s face.

“All this goddamn trouble, for what?” Arthur continued, growling. “For me? Surely you can get someone better than me.”

Mister Cullen hummed in response, but said nothing else, just continued smoking as he kept his eyes locked on Arthur's. Eventually he closed his eyes and leaned back in the cushion, exhaling the smoke up in the air. “…I’ve never been one to believe in fairytale stories like soulmates, but something draws me to you, Arthur. And I’ve never experienced it before.” He said calmly, looking back at the other again. “But when you keep on denying me, you bring out the worst in me. Let's just keep it at that.”

Arthur felt like he saw some of the walls crumbling behind Cullen's normally stoic eyes. “..But why the Hell would you want to be with someone who brings out your worst? You show your interest in the worst of ways.” Arthur growled.

Mister Cullen stared back at him. “This isn't my normal way of courting, but you didn't give me much of a choice. You're unreachable, Arthur.”

It felt like Arthur could hear a small hint of desperation in his voice, he thought he saw it hidden in his eyes too. But in less than a second, the emotion was gone, hidden behind cold, brooding eyes again. There was a shift in his expression and he seemed more cold than he ever did before. They both stayed silent for what felt like ages, but probably wasn't more than a minute, awkward tension surrounding them.

“..There'll be a dinner party at my mansion In two days.” Mister Cullen changed the subject and took a slow drag of his cigarette. “..And you'll be attending.”

Arthur frowned and stared back at him, but kept his mouth shut. He felt like he should protest, but he was done protesting, it had brought him nothing good.

“Now you must understand the time of me being tolerant is over after you and your friend's stunt.” He continued. “Try anything again and I won't be hesitating to kill your friend this time. I'm done being patient.”

Arthur kept his eyes on the other man and stubbed his cigarette out on the fine cherry wood that decorated the inside of the carriage, making mister Cullen frown at him, but he chose not to comment about it.

“..We'll soon be arriving at my mansion. Don't bother looking for your friend, he won't be staying anywhere near us of course. That would be foolish.” Mister Cullen glanced outside the window and that seemed the end of their conversation.

Arthur was fine with that, he was done hearing his voice anyway. 

Wasn't more than a minute later when the carriage stopped in front of a large and tall building huddled between other tall buildings. They were definitely in the richer part of town, full of grand looking houses, but Arthur noted how none of them had any gardens, the houses looking out over the smog filled streets, the occasional tree giving it some much needed green. Seemed they were close to the bank and the Bastille saloon and Arthur wouldn't have minded having a drink or more right now.

Mister Cullen motioned with his hand for Arthur to step out first, as he did, he felt the other's warning hand on his shoulder. Mister Cullen stepped out after him, firmly kept his hand on his shoulder and Arthur could feel how the other man was subtly brushing his thumb over the scent gland at his neck over the fabric of his shirt. He shivered at the touch, wanting so badly to break away, turn around and swing his fists into the other man's face. 

But he didn't. 

The other man silently guided him forwards and Arthur could feel how Cullen's hand moved down his shoulder blade to his lower back as they walked up the front entrance stone steps. The large doors opened almost automatically and they were welcomed inside by one of mister Cullen's servants. A handful of guards pooled inside behind them.

Arthur looked up and hid his awe as they stepped inside a grand hallway, full of marble flooring and wooden detailed ornaments. He didn't look around much more and stared ahead of him with a grimace on his face, didn't want to give mister Cullen the satisfaction of him seeming amazed by his wealth.

“It’s late. You must be tired.” Mister Cullen said as he motioned for Arthur to take the stairs up. They went up another three stories before Arthur was led inside a grand luxurious room with tall windows hidden behind dark blue velvet curtains, the lights were dimmed and the fresh smell of clean linen reached Arthur's nose. He turned to mister Cullen, half expected to get pounced by the other man, but felt slightly surprised when the other man turned back to the door.

“Good night, Arthur. We'll talk some more in the morning. Get some rest now.”

And with that he was gone, the door closed behind him and Arthur could hear the turning of the lock. Could smell how mister Cullen's scent moved away to the room next to him, smelled the two betas standing guard at his door.

Arthur let out a big sigh and slowly sat down on the soft king size bed, started fumbling with his boots to get them off, but it was quite tricky with his hands still bound together. He threw his boots on the herringbone floor and lay down on the bed. Staring up at the antique ceiling full of finely decorated ornaments, he watched how the crystal shimmered of the small chandelier. 

His thoughts wandered back to Charles and how hopeless everything was starting to feel. If Charles survived, if Charles was even still alive, would he have to live a life locked up forever? Charles wasn't a person to live a life surrounded by four walls, Hell, Arthur wasn't himself either. But Arthur would accept that life if it meant Charles and everyone else were safe.

How he wished he could do something. Get himself and Charles out of this situation and get back to the gang. Probably had to explain Abigail what had happened to her husband, her mate. Dead.. his body burned in the fire, only burnt bones to bury. She would've already noticed their lost connection the moment John took his last breath, but knowing her, she would surely want to know what had happened to her mate.

But who was he kidding? He was stuck here. There was no way of informing her, except if Cullen decided he would allow Arthur to write her a letter, and that idea seemed absurd, even to him.

Rubbing his tired eyes with his bound hands proved difficult, but Arthur didn't much care, kept his hands over his eyes as he thought back to all those times he and his brother had gotten into mischief when they were younger. Pestering Suzanne when she scolded at them to take a bath, cheating at cards while John looked on in disbelief at Arthur's ‘luck', who would run after him, screaming insults, when he finally caught on. Their first scam together when Hosea finally thought John was old enough to join in, and how they ruined that very same scam when John accidently shot an officer through the head while Dutch was still using his silver tongue on the poor guy. He had seen John grow an awful lot, fighting next to Arthur, side by side, a capable gunslinger, a husband.. a father.

Arthur let out a deep sigh, he had to accept it.

His little brother. He was dead.

Marston was dead.

No.

John was dead.

He felt the lump in his throat, felt his eyes burning. But he didn't cry.

Furiously started rubbing his eyes instead.

He just..

Why did life hate him so much?

Hadn't he gone through enough already? His mother's death, his father's violent beatings, growing up an orphan on the streets after his father got hanged, abuse, assault, torture, rape, friends and family getting murdered and now some kind of forced marriage. Seemed like he was spared of none.

When was it enough? How many hardships did he have to endure before he would finally have to give up?

The worst thing was.. he couldn't even give up if he wanted to. It would almost surely cost Charles his life.

Arthur rolled onto his side, hoping sleep would just take over and relieve him from his thoughts. But like everything in life, nothing went his way.

His thoughts wondered back to the gang, did they even know he and Charles were taken by Cullen? Did Dutch know? 

And he suddenly remembered the familiar face he had seen when he had looked outside the carriage. When hoping to catch sight of Charles, he thought he had caught sight of Lenny instead.

But he wasn't completely sure he had seen right. It was dark and the face had appeared and disappeared all within a second. Hadn't caught his scent either, but there were so many different scents that roamed the streets in such a big city like Saint Denis, so that didn't mean much.

He could hope, he could hope Lenny would try and save Charles, hope Lenny and the rest of the gang would get Charles out of this mess and leave Arthur be.

But by now Arthur was done hoping.

He lay there awake for the rest of the night till early in the morning, unable to catch sleep.

……………………………………..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you guys had to wait a long time for this, sorry about that. I had to really brainstorm about where I'm going with this story and how it's gonna end. I'm still not completely sure, but some parts are clearer to me now. 
> 
> Thanks to my dear friend N_Be for helping me brainstorm and being my supportive lil friend.
> 
> Also thank you to all these sweet people leaving comments and kudos, means the world to me!


	25. Chapter 25

Arthur looked at his reflection in the mirror, he was dressed to the nines in his dark gray suit and green silk vest, but miserable looking nonetheless. He turned away and paced through his room, ending up at one of the tall windows looking out over the depressing smog filled streets of Saint Denis. Walls everywhere, stone everywhere, people everywhere, the only hint of nature to be found were the weeds between the cobblestones and the lonely oak tree standing next to the main road. It was still light outside, but in less than an hour or so it would probably get dark. And in less than an hour Cullen would be welcoming his guests for his extravagant dinner party.

Arthur let out a deep sigh and rubbed his wrists, still slightly sore from being bound together for so long, but grateful of finally being able to move normally again. He was supposed to wait here like a good boy, wait till Cullen picked him up and would show him off to his guests or whatever he was planning to do.

And Arthur would just have to accept it, he would have to deal with it. He still hadn't seen Charles, nor heard about him, not even caught his scent. Nothing. He wasn't willing to risk anything, so he would behave, he would act like Cullen wanted him to act, he would play his role if it meant Charles would be kept alive and well.

Even if he wasn't completely sure Charles still was alive and well.

To be honest, he didn't have much hope left in him anymore, but this was the hope he still wanted to clutch onto like it was the last most valuable thing in the world, the hope he didn't want to let go off just yet. If Cullen said Charles was still alive and healing up, Arthur would naively believe him for his own mental sake, didn't want to question it, he would just accept it.

He looked down at the streets, watched the wealthy men and women wander around, probably going to one of the nearby theatres or restaurants, spending large amounts of money for a glass of wine and some mediocre amusement, while at the other side of the city the poor could barely buy a chunk of old and dry bread.

This wealth, it sickened him. And to be honest, he wanted nothing to do with it.

He yearned for wide open fields, old dense forests, meandering rivers through tall intimidating mountains, he even yearned for the mucky swamps surrounding Saint Denis and all the awful critters that lived there. Everything was better than this overcrowded city. Oh how he hated this goddamn city, he hated this house, hated everything about this place with its posh and overly extravagant interior, the heady scent of Cullen overwhelming him everywhere he went. In less than two days time, he already felt like he couldn't take much more of this place, the uneasy feeling he had had when he had first gotten inside, only getting worse and worse by the second he was here.

Though ever since he was here, Cullen hadn't done anything to him, hadn't even tried anything yet, kept an appropriate distance and once in a while he would give Arthur a subtle touch, as if he was courting him. Seemed a little too late for anything the like. But Arthur admitted he didn't mind the respectable distance mister Cullen kept from him.

He couldn't help but wonder how it would be to be bonded with someone. Would his instincts take over and would he grow to like Cullen's scent? Would he grow desperate and restless if he wasn't nearby the other man? Would he even start to love him? It was hard to imagine when the thick and angry hate ran deeply through his veins. All the ways he had imagined killing mister Cullen, he couldn't imagine them being replaced by thoughts of love and want. Arthur grimaced, thought he might get sick by the idea alone and quickly buried the thoughts into the back of his mind, feeling a bit too confronted by them.

He didn’t know how long he stood there when he was broken out of his thoughts, hearing people entering and getting welcomed downstairs. He noticed it was getting dark outside. How long had he been standing here, lost in thought, staring at nothing at all?

After about twenty minutes or so, it seemed like most of the guests had arrived as it seemed to have calmed down quite a bit, the guests most probably moved to the grand room where the party would be held. Arthur glanced outside again, It was now completely dark outside, except for the lights coming from the houses and street lights down below. He heard footsteps slowly creeping up the stairs and through the corridor, halting in front of his door. Arthur could smell the thick and heavy scent that was Cullen, it was like he was breathing in oil, covering his lungs, suffocating him slowly. He heard the turning of the lock and turned to look over his shoulder when mister Cullen entered the room. They exchanged stares and the other man broke the eye contact to allow his eyes to roam over Arthur's body, looking pleased.

“My my, look at you.” He said and slowly stepped forwards, he was like a predator eyeing its prey, it wasn't a look Arthur was fond of receiving. “You look marvelous, Arthur.” 

Arthur grunted in response, a frown marring his features as he watched mister Cullen walking towards him. The other man halted not more than two feet away from him and Arthur hated how he had to slightly look upwards to meet Cullen's eyes. The other was standing way too close for Arthur's liking and he had to do his best to stay calm. 

Don't panic, don't lash out.

Do NOT beat the shit out of him.

“My guests can't wait to meet you.. And I can't blame them.” Mister Cullen continued. “Meeting the elusive omega who managed to win my heart, they all thought I was incapable to have any emotions at all.” He chuckled and the sound made Arthur feel sick to his stomach. But he kept silent, gritted his teeth instead.

Mister Cullen motioned with his hand for Arthur to follow him and they moved down the hall and down the stairs, ending up waiting in front of two large finely decorated doors. Arthur could hear and smell multiple people behind the closed doors and running away felt like the most natural thing to do right now. But he stayed where he was, standing close next to mister Cullen, while every fiber of his being screamed at him to run, run, run. The unnerving feeling got real close to that time he ran from the alphas in the woods, he felt like a prey again, waiting to get devoured.

The subtle hand on his shoulder startled him, but he was able to repress the flinch, nervously scratched the back of his neck instead.

“Now I know I've said this before, but I'm expecting you to be at your utmost behavior, Arthur. No rudeness, speak when you're spoken to, no insults, don't grimace and do NOT disgrace or humiliate me. Just try and act civilized.”

There was that word again, uttered by many men, even by Dutch. ‘civilized’ Arthur hardly knew what it meant, acting ‘civilized’. 

“From now on you'll be calling me by my first name, you'll be calling me Roy. Nothing else. Understood?”

Arthur grunted in response, kept his eyes on the doors, just hoping mister Cullen would take his goddamn hand off his shoulder.

“Just try and charm the crowd. If everything goes fine, I'll grant your friend a better treatment for his leg, a bigger chance he'll get back to walking normally again. You might even be able to see him.”

Arthur briefly glanced at the other man before turning his attention back to the closed doors. Charm the crowd huh.. Arthur was the brute, he was nothing close to a charmer. Charming a crowd of wealthy people felt like an impossible task to him, this was normally something he watched Hosea or Dutch do, using their silver tongues. No not him. But he knew he would have to give it a try, for Charles's sake.

Cullen stepped forward, straightened his bowtie and moved to turn the doorknob. He halted, let his hand hover above it before turning to look over his shoulder at Arthur again. 

“..Don’t. Ruin this.” He warned for a final time.

And Arthur had never felt as tempted to ruin something as he did now. 

But he knew the consequences.

He watched as mister Cullen gave him one last warning look and turned the doorknob, pushing the doors open.

And there were so many people. 

The whole room was crowded with men and women, each holding their own flutes of champagne, the men dressed to the nines, the women in their big glamorous dresses, their hair pinned up and adorned with jeweled clips. Big crystal chandeliers illuminated the grand room with its high ceilings and the lots of finely detailed ornaments. In the corner there was a group of musicians playing an elegant tune. When he and mister Cullen entered, the crowd cheered and cleared a path, some of the fine folks were greeting them, and some were even clapping their hands at them, and Arthur didn't understand what the goddamn Hell was going on. He glanced at mister Cullen, who was smiling at the people inside the room, did a simple bow. He repressed a shudder when he felt how Cullen slipped an arm around his waist and pulled him along to a long table where two empty seats were placed at the end.

Arthur couldn't help but feeling deeply and unforgivably out of place.

The people were gathering around the long table and a waiter pushed a glass of champagne into Arthur's hands. He tried to hide the tremble in his hands, feeling completely out of place and overwhelmingly uncomfortable with all these people staring at him.

Mister Cullen raised his glass of champagne into the air, his other arm still tightly wrapped around Arthur's waist.

“Good evening, fine people, friends and colleagues.” He started, took a dramatic pause. “…I'm so grateful you could all make it to this special evening, this special dinner party …me and Arthur's engagement party!” The crowd cheered again and applauded and it seemed like some already had a little bit too much of the alcohol that seemed to be flowing freely.

Arthur spluttered, but the tightening hold around his waist made the words die in his throat. Engagement party…. His and Cullen's engagement party. He frowned and his hand clenched around the glass of champagne he was holding. Oh this all made sense now. He should've known.

“Meet my fiancé and future mate, Arthur Callahan.”

Arthur swallowed thickly and stared at the crowd who were now clapping their hands at them. He felt sick.

“I would like to give a toast on this special occasion, if I may?” 

Another man standing close to mister Cullen spoke up and Cullen glanced at him, raised his eyebrows, but nodded at the man for him to proceed.

“..Now me and Roy, we go a long way back.” The blond man started, he seemed around his forties, tall and broad with a scruffy beard, most definitely alpha by the smell of him. He gave mister Cullen a somewhat sly smile before winking at Arthur. “Always been too proud to acknowledge an omega could brighten up his life. And look at him now! Couldn't believe what I was hearing when I was told he was planning on bonding with an omega! Couldn't believe I was invited to his goddamn engagement party! And I still hardly can't, but seeing this lovely omega of his, I'm starting to understand.” He chuckled and the crowd around them joined him. “To your future happiness, my dear friend. Lots of prosperity and of course.. fertility..” He said slyly, making the crowd laugh, and Arthur just wanted to pull this feller's tongue out. “These two together, being bonded for life, now that just warms my heart.” He turned to mister Cullen and clapped a hand on the other's shoulder, before giving Arthur yet another wink. Arthur wanted to vomit.

The blond man turned to the crowd and raised his glass of champagne into the air.

“Please raise your glasses in honor and celebration of my dear friend, Roy Cullen and his fiancé Arthur Callahan!”

They all joined him in raising their glasses and Arthur involuntarily did so as well. His hand still trembling, whether it was from, anger or panic, he didn't know anymore.

They cheered and as they did so, Arthur gulped the alcohol down in one go, noticed the way mister Cullen was briefly frowning at him when he did.

The people around them cheered, drank their champagnes and eventually their attention turned away from them. Arthur sat down in his chair, looking out over the table, while mister Cullen shook the blond man's hand and exchanged some words Arthur didn't care to listen to.

Other of the fine folks surrounding them took their seats as well, so did mister Cullen next to him when the blond man stepped away and sat down at the other side of Cullen.  
Arthur just stared, kept his back uncomfortably straight, his fingers clenching the fabric of his pants. Was this all real? 

It didn't feel real to him.

“Now that wasn't all that bad, right Arthur?” Mister Cullen said in a low voice, so only the two of them could hear.

“I think you forgot to mention this was a goddamn engagement party.. Roy.” Arthur spat out the other's name as he growled at him, but kept his voice low. “..OUR goddamn engagement party.”

“Ah, I guess I did forget to mention.” Mister Cullen replied simply.

Arthur frowned and he wanted to retort, but the warning look Cullen shot back at him, made him swallow his words. He turned to the plate of fine food a waiter had just placed in front of him and just stared at it instead, gritting his teeth and still frowning.

“Stop frowning, Arthur. Eat your food.” Mister Cullen said while he grabbed his fork and knife, started cutting the juicy steak on his plate, blood oozing out from the sides. “People are watching us. You should at least try and look like you don't hate being here.” Arthur let out a low growl and glanced at the other man, but mister Cullen wasn't looking back at him.

Arthur turned back to his food with a grunt and grabbed his fork, poking the piece of meat. He really didn't have an appetite at the moment, felt like there was a big lump inside his throat, but he took a bite of his steak anyway, swallowing the food felt like swallowing a ton of dusty old bricks and he quickly took big gulps of the refilled champagne to clear his throat. 

When he heard a chuckle, he put his glass down and wiped his mouth in a not so elegant way, his eyes meeting with the blond man's next to mister Cullen. Arthur raised a brow, held back the sneer he wanted to throw at the guy.

The man turned to mister Cullen as if looking for permission to talk to Arthur, mister Cullen just nodded and the other man turned back to Arthur. He leaned forward over the table and stretched out a hand for the other to take. Arthur didn't particularly want to shake this man's hand, but did so reluctantly.

“Thomas Eluard, it’s really nice to meet you.”

“Arthur Callahan.” Arthur responded with a grunt.

“Arthur Callahan..” Mister Eluard repeated, nodded and gave a smile. “So Arthur, can you tell me the story of how you were able to capture this cold bastard's heart? I'm just dying to know. Didn't think he was able to have any emotions at all. Hell, didn't think he had a heart!”

Mister Cullen gave him an annoyed stare.

“I.. uhhr…” Arthur grunted a bit uncomfortably and glanced at Cullen. Was he supposed to make up some lovey dovey lie? Tell this man how much in love he was, the thought alone made him cringe. He decided to settle on the truth, better keep some parts out though..

“..We met in the train to Applebridge.” He started. “And mister Cu.. Roy… he just kept staring at me, was a bit.. unnerving really.”

Mister Eluard laughed and clapped a hand on the table and leaned further forwards over the table. “Roy's a bit of a creeper, isn't he?”

Mister Cullen just stared at him. “Ha. Very funny, Thomas.” He said dryly as he took a cigarette out and lit it.

“When Roy was in his teens, he always stared at every omega he saw. But fortunately for him, he got rich and now we all just have to tolerate his staring. Maybe his creeping days are over now that he has found you.”

Arthur couldn't help the way the corner of his lips slightly curled upwards. “Nah, I wouldn't bet on it. I think he'll always stay a creeper to me.”

Mister Eluard laughed at that and Arthur couldn't help but think seeing that sour look on mister Cullen's face was one of the best things he had seen these last couple of miserable days.  
This Eluard guy didn't seem all that bad after all, the rest of them seemed like a dreadful bunch, but this man seemed kinda okay. Even for an alpha. And mister Cullen expected him to try and act charming, act civilized. He could at least try with this feller. If making fun of mister Cullen was the best way to charm this man, Arthur would happily oblige.

“Say mister Eluard, how do you two know each other anyway?” Arthur asked, might be clever to get some more info out of this guy as well.

“Oh me and Roy go a long way back.” Mister Eluard glanced at Cullen and took a bite out of his food. “A bunch of street rats we were and look at us now.” He sat upright, broadened his shoulders, looking slightly proud of himself.

“Two rich pompous bastards, you have my congratulations.” Arthur said dryly.

Mister Eluard laughed again and turned to Cullen, who seemed even more sour than before. “I like this one, Roy. He's got spirit.”

“That he does.” Mister Cullen said wryly as he took a drag of his cigarette. That made mister Eluard laugh even harder.

There was a gentle song playing in the background and when it changed to a more active tune, mister Eluard perked up and sat upright. He turned to mister Cullen. “You'll have to lend me Arthur, he looks like a fine dancing partner.” He smiled, already standing up. Arthur couldn't help but cringe.

Mister Cullen frowned, but waved his hand after a few seconds. “Fine Thomas, I'm sure Arthur will be fine with it as well.” Arthur could hear the almost unnoticeable warning tone in his voice and knew he didn't have much of a say in this even though he really didn't want any of this.   
He wanted to protest, but he knew he couldn't.

“Sure..” He grunted and grabbed his drink, gulped the rest down in one go and stood up as well. He couldn't help but feel a bit humiliated and uncomfortable when having to take the alpha's arm, was lead to the dancefloor where some other couples were already dancing along with the music.

Arthur cursed when mister Eluard took his hand and dramatically swirled him around before putting his other hand at his waist and started guiding him over the dancefloor, kept a respectable distance though which Arthur was grateful for. The proximity of any alpha made him still feel unwillingly nervous and he tried his best to not allow the panic to take over. He faintly wondered if he would ever get over it.

He tried his best to keep up with his dance partner, but Arthur knew he himself wasn't much of a dancer. Mister Eluard lead him through the dance, but Arthur's steps were clunky, missing multiple steps as he also tried to concentrate on his posture, knowing he held his back awfully stiff.

“So.. Arthur Callahan.” Mister Eluard broke him out of his thoughts and he looked up at him. “I must say, you look awfully out of place here, which also makes you awfully charming.” He said as he swayed the both of them over the dancefloor. “I do wonder where my friend has found you, is it really the train towards Applebridge, or… perhaps the brothel in Applebridge?”

“Are you calling me a whore..?” Arthur growled. 

“I wasn't very subtle, was I? Excuse my boldness.” Mister Eluard said. “But I couldn't help but notice you got a certain type of flair you only get when growing up on the streets, most omegas living there end up in brothels.”

“Well, I ain't no goddamn whore..”

“Then I do hope you accept my apologies, dear Arthur.”

Arthur grunted and imagined his fists flying into the other man's face, would love to hear the sound of his nose cracking.

“It's not like you look like a whore, you don't smell like one either, you smell remarkably..” Mister Eluard paused, seemed to be looking for the right word. “…clean.” He decided on and twirled the both of them around.

“Clean… What the Hell you mean by that?” Arthur growled and stumbled through a couple of steps.

Mister Eluard seemed to purposely ignore his question and spun him around again, pulling him back, a bit closer this time. “So, what are your feelings towards Roy?” He asked instead. “I’ll be honest with you, I can't help but feel you're somewhat forced into this.”

Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line and gritted his teeth, keeping his mouth tightly shut.

“I know most omegas are forced into marriage and I know Roy well enough that he doesn't mind going to the extreme to get what he wants.” Mister Eluard said, slowing their dance. “How do you think us street rats ended up in big houses like these? Not by getting a normal job at the factory, I can tell you that much. We got fine ways of persuading a man.”

“..You think I don't already know what you are?” Arthur growled back at him. “You're goddamn criminals.. And I ain't all that much different than you.”

“Ah I see, I should've known you weren't.” Mister Eluard had a curious look on his face, his voice turning to a low whisper. “So what do you do then? You pickpocket? You seduce alphas and steal their money, cause I can assure you, that won't be possible with someone like Roy.”

“You think so goddamn simple of me.” Arthur growled. “I reckon pickpocketing is the least bad thing I have done.”

Mister Eluard laughed, didn't look the least bit intimidated. “Whatever it is, it seems like Roy is in full control of you.”

“Just as much as he's in control of the weather.”

“Hmm there might be truth in that, dear Arthur.”

“Gentlemen.” A voice interrupted them and Arthur could feel a heavy hand land on his shoulder, that awfully familiar and overwhelming scent filling his nose. It was nauseating.

“Ah Roy, you probably wish to get your fiancé back.” Mister Eluard chuckled and let go of him. “Very well. Arthur, it was my pleasure.” He winked, gave a small bow and quickly turned away from them without saying another word.

Arthur watched him go, thought it a bit odd how sudden and quick the other left. He could still feel the heavy hand on his shoulder, felt those fingers squeezing, presssing into his muscles, moving up to trace along the scent gland in his neck. He repressed the shudder and instead straightened his shoulders, keeping his head high as he turned to look at mister Cullen, he narrowed his brows and gave the other a pointed look.

Mister Cullen seemed somewhat strained, had a bit of an unreadable look on his face. Was he uncomfortable with the way he went along with mister Eluard. Maybe even jealous? Arthur wasn't much good in reading other people, but this he could tell as much.

“Come.”

The pressure of Cullen's hand at the nape of his neck increased and Arthur felt how he was subtly pulled along and away from the dancing crowd, steered across the room to one of the French doors leading to the outside balcony.

The cool night air hit him in the face, almost uncomfortably refreshing compared to the stifling humidity that was inside. Arthur felt the hand slip from his neck and watched how mister Cullen moved over to lean against the balcony.

“I hate these goddamn crowds..” Cullen muttered as he pulled out two cigarettes, handing one to Arthur.

“Then why the Hell did you arrange this?” Arthur grumbled as he took the offered cigarette.

“Thomas did..” Cullen lit both their cigarettes. “..Said it would humor the high society of Saint Denis, they always do love their parties..” He took a long drag of his cigarette, let the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling up into the air.   
“Give them some expensive wine and fancy music and they'll drink up every word you have to say to them. It'll be a good night finding some new promising deals.”

Arthur knew all too well what he meant by the word ‘deals'. 

“You might have noticed I'm not much of a people person.” Cullen grunted after a short while of silence and looked out over the balcony. Right at that moment, Arthur noticed mister Cullen seemed just as out of place as he himself did.

Arthur chuckled and huffed, although a bit bitterly. “You are? I think you've been awfully charming so far.”

Cullen glanced at him and took another drag of his cigarette, he seemed to be a bit out of it. Sighing, Arthur leaned against the balcony next to the other and took a swift drag of his own cigarette.

“I regret what I did.” Mister Cullen spoke up again. “I lost my cool and ordered to get them killed.”

Arthur knew what he was talking about, the death of John, of Albert, even that damn dog.

“You regret what you did, cause you know you ruined everything when you did that.” Arthur growled. “You're not sorry at all.”

Mister Cullen stayed silent for a couple of long seconds and let out a short chuckle. “You’re no fool..” He said and took a drag of his cigarette, staring out over the small back garden, could hardly call it a garden. “But back in the train I saw a sadness in you, I saw a man who had lost himself and I said to myself I so badly wanted to fix you. And all I've accomplished is making it worse.”

Arthur felt his anger rise. “What are you playing at? You're a goddamn son of a bitch, you know that? And what you did.. I won't ever forget that. None of your pretty words are gonna change that.” He growled through gritted teeth and flicked his cigarette down the balcony and into the small garden. “I know I'm not that much better than you. I've killed many men, turned many wives into widows.” Turning away, he stepped up to the French doors and halted. “But putting two defenseless men into a burning building, that's what a goddamn coward would do.” He growled, pushing the doors open. “I reckon you think we would've been nice and dandy if you hadn't burned them alive. But you're so goddamn wrong in thinking that.” 

He stepped away from the other man, through the doors and back inside again, felt his anger dissipating almost instantly when he smelled a familiar scent. It wasn't a strong scent, it was the faint and gentle scent of a beta, a scent that reminded him of his home, of his gang, his pack. He knew all the gang member's scents by heart.

Looking around the crowded room, Arthur tried to find the familiar face, trying to look not too obvious doing it. He wandered through the crowd, could smell he was close now. All of a sudden he felt a hand grab his, felt a piece of folded paper getting slipped into his hand. He turned, his eyes meeting the kid he was looking for.

Lenny.

They both kept silent, Arthur understanding all too well he could ruin everything by talking to him. An encouraging but small smile, one last glance and Lenny turned away, disappearing into the crowd, his scent growing weaker by the second.

Goddamn praise that loyal kid.

Arthur looked where Lenny had gone and clenched his fingers around the piece of paper, holding onto it like it was his last chance of ever getting out of here.

He couldn't read the message Lenny gave to him in a crowd full of observing eyes. And it didn't matter right now, he would read it later in his room.

Arthur couldn't help the small smile that slipped on his face, putting the piece of paper in his pocket.

They.. the gang.. they knew where he was and for the first time in days, he felt a small sliver of sincere hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just sooo sorry about this long ass delay, I'm really dissapointed in myself.  
I don't like giving excuses, but here I go anyway.   
So about 2 months ago I found out I was pregnant and that's great and that's what me and my husband hoped for. But I've been awfully sick because of it. It's like a very extreme morning sickness 24/7. I can barely eat or drink, I vomit a lot, constant heartburn. I'm just exhausted.  
So for now I can't give my full dedication to this story, at least until I get a bit better and find some more energy again.  
But again! I'm really sorry and I can't blame you guys if you lose interest in the story. But I still really want to finish this, so I'll keep working on it, but in a slow pace.


End file.
